Bayonet
by ArcheryLefty
Summary: Merle is trying to fix things. A certain bullet goes awry. Can he survive? First person headspace multiple POV. copious cussing (do you expect anything else out of the wonderful Dixon boys?) Lots of sarcasm and angst. Enjoy!
1. Chapter 1: FUBAR

Bayonet

**Merle vs. governor but plans goes awry and so does a certain bullet. 1****st**** person crazy headspace with filthy language, racial slurs and disrespecting women. In other words, the Merle we love and love to hate. Merle and all other characters from TWD are not owned by me. The OC is owned by me (much good it will do me). Much of this will be a character study and it all will be 1****st**** person study from multiple characters point of view. I will try to keep it canon but much of it will be behind the scenes that we know best. Slight alterations will occur due to ramifications of that certain bullet going astray and our favorite antihero actually was having some luck for once.**

**I am not English major but I will make an attempt to get the grammar and punctuation within reasonable limits. I also am not a soldier or backwoodsman but I did attempt to research as best as I could. The same to be said with the medical stuff, but I have slightly more knowledge in that arena. This is for fun folks no flames please. If you don't like then don't read but kindly constructive criticism and reviews are much appreciated. Other than that carry on and have fun. Oh yeah, Merle is a southerner but I most certainly am not. That being said I tried to make his head space be similar to what it might sound to a southerner. I've always thought that those of us who have more distinct accents may not sound that way to ourselves. Therefore, I'm not going to extremes in that area. Hah!**

Chapter 1

Merle POV.

"I ain't gonna beg. I ain't begging you!"

I looked into the governors emotionless blue eye, and although my battered body was screaming a litany of curses at him. I had lost so much that I had to keep my pride and go down fightin' like a Dixon; tough and stubborn to the bitter end. The gun rang out hit me in the chest and played ping pong in my insides careening through like a drunk on payday before crashin' through my back. The only problem with that idea was that impossibly this was not my end. To hurt this much and not die. Well that's just fuckin' wrong . . . I WANTED to die now. Ya make an entrance, do your job and if you do it well, then you get to make an exit. If not, then you go out on your terms. There's no place for me in this world, not anymore. The governor sees me as a traitor to be killed and officer friendly's group sees me as the Devil. Someone to keep around and use for the dirtiest of work. Where can I fit? So I will take myself out on my terms. I ain't gonna go down to crazy eye's level (hmm I like that name). Too bad I won't be here to use it. I like to name people in my own way helps me own 'em a little bit. But maybe if I take out enough of crazy eye's fighters . . . jus' maybe Daryl will be okay and maybe (that's a big maybe) all will be forgiven on their end. Me? I'll be past caring. Well that was the idea anyway. Turns out even the best constructed military plans go awry. And the military couldn't handle ole Merle anyway. Huh.

To understand this you have to rewind this crazy world a couple of days. Bear with me. Ya know you can't avoid the Dixon charm. Huh? Hooked like a fish now aren't ya. Anyone will tell ya I'm a selfish ol' bastard. I won't deny it, call me anything but soft, but my baby brother will always come first with me. He's still got a chance and I will do anything for him, maybe I can make up for not being there for him when he was a kid.

He is all I've ever had. I wasn't a good brother to him. I wasn't there when he wanted me, needed me. But I loved him always thought of him. Even when I was gone, I thought of him, Imagined what he'd say to shit, I was doing. I wasn't old enough to raise him. We're 8 years apart, too much to really grow up together but too little for me to really be able to raise him. Havin' him kept me from having a bullet for lunch several times. Come on look at me, who in their right mind thinks I should take care of a kid (and people think I'm stupid . . . right). Some simple minded piece of shit that's what you think . . ..yes? Except that's not true, I think, I feel. I have to work with the hand I've been dealt. As I tole Michonne I only have one. Too bad it's not a very good one. But I've always been good at making the best of nothin', that's all I've ever had. Daryl bein' the greatest exception to that.

Our Daddy was a drunken bastard dumb as a box of rocks and loved to cause a hurtin, especially on his family. Daryl and I are covered in belt marks courtesy of that evil sonofabitch. I hoped that when I left he would stop hitting, since I always couldn't stop myself from instigating the stupid bastard. I think now I was hidin' the ugliest of truths from myself but not smart enough to see it right before my eyes & powerless to prevent it. Daryl paid the price for that mistake and I see my sins on every scar etched in his back by my Daddy's belt. No matter that I have at least double the marks he does. That don't matter; he shouldn't have any marks. He was a good kid, sweet, only wanted to please. In another family he woulda' been perfect. As a Dixon he was a pussy. I worked hard to toughen him up so he'd be Okay when I had to leave. I knew it was only a matter of time. So I taught him to hunt and track to live off the land, to survive alone in the woods. I hope I raised him well enough. Who knew those were exactly the skills we need for surviving a fuckin' zombie apocalypse.

Our Momma was a sad lumpish housewife who tried to drink away the bruises and broken bones. Easier than to get up off her butt and actually stop all the abuse. She finally ended herself when Daryl was about 10 by passing out with a lit cigarette in bed and setting herself afire. What she gonna do? High school sweetheart, dropped out to be a mommy. She must have had shit for brains to put up with the crap that my Daddy dished out.

It was all of my fault ya know. I was too loud & mouthy, didn't like to listen & too damn smart for my own good. I remember how she loved Daryl for about 2 days until he cried at night. She started to shake him she was so afraid of Daddy waking up. He screamed and screamed and I woke up just in time. She was shaking him and instead just tossed him on the bed where she cried and cried. I told her it's ok I'll watch him. So I started watching him at night and I failed 3rd grade. Picture of maternal concern was my Mamma. Couldn't sleep at home, much easier to sleep at school. See you can't judge a book by its cover I don't actually eat babies for lunch, am quite good with them. I actually like to hold 'em. It's just that their Mothers don't like the look of me (not that I can blame them, even I have to admit that I avoid the mirror more often than not).

That was the spring Daddy first really took a chuck outta my hide. Still have scars right over my shoulder blades and I believe that was my first dislocated shoulder too. That was a pretty bad one. My left was always weaker since then. Luckily I was right handed (yeah up until officer friendly and T Dog got ahold of me) but I digress.

I've always been a selfish bastard and ruthless. I gotta do what I gotta do. But taking Michonne to Woodbury to be torture surprise for governor. Nah, it didn't taste too good no more, she was a fine Nubian queen ummhmm fine as they come might even look past her obvious racial flaws. Maybe Mouse is right and I am a late bloomer. Things that were okay a month ago don't sit so well. Yahuh those 16 people I've killed since the dead began to walk I remember them. I don't regret so much but I remember and know that maybe someone misses them. I try not to think about it much. Gotta do what I gotta do to survive this fucked up world & to have a place and a function.

So being a dumbass I kick Michonne out of the car and make it my own party. I just can't lower myself to the governor's level knowing what he will do. I might be a real piece of work and I often don't understand why I come to the decisions I do, but it's done come time to take a stand. I may not live to see Daryl again but I can choose a good way to end this sorrowful life of mine. This way it will mean something. Something that if it goes down right and I get to make an exit in the confusion; I have a small chance to survive. Maybe. Let's see if I'm as good at this shit as I think I am.

So how to make a good diversion to buy me some time to take my shots. I find a bunch of geeks and herd them to Woodbury. Damn slowest idiots ever. Shit thought I'd run outta gas. Fuckin pied piper of walkers huh. So I finally get there with my little bunch of admirers. I take cover and set up my ambush in an old warehouse. I put my rifle out the window, still a little clumsy as I have to sight out of my right eye but have to use the trigger with my left hand, my only hand. Adjusting the sights and shooting is fucking awkward one handed.

I start to think my little game of distracting the governor's thugs with my little herd of hungry admirers is gonna work. I start picking the stupid bastards off while they are busy. I keep moving window to window so they don't draw a bead on me until I get them all. I am so close to getting the governor as well but then unfortunately one of the walkers found me and attacked me while I was sniping and I got revealed. Nearly got kicked to death too. I was surrounded by the dumbasses that I used to lead and they took pleasure kicking the shit outta me. I covered my head with my hand and little Merle (yup, I named my prosthetic – seems more a part of me that way, ya know?), but I still took some damage. I felt a rib go but protected my head somewhat. Then governor showed up. "leave him to me"

He tussled me a bit. Broke another rib, choked me. Never thought he was so strong. He's taller but I thought I was meaner as well as stronger turns out I was wrong. As he was beating the living shit outta me, the coldness in his eye chilled me to the bone. He was dead to the core of his being, more so than the corpses. I wonder how he hid that behind his politeness and cold charm that never quite seemed right. He might have only one eye but I was the one who was blinded. Typical Merle dumbass bullshit, throwing in for the wrong thing and forgetting what was important. We tussled and he beat my face in (think I felt another few bones give way).

Then he bit my smallest two fingers off of my remaining hand. REALLY! He enjoys being cruel and brutal does the governor. Now I truly want to die. I can't be a cripple. How does one survive with that much damage to your hands? I refuse to be seen as weak. No one knows how hard I have to work at not seeming gimpy with only one hand, even with the bayonet (have you ever tried to tie your boots one handed or do your belt. Or even cut yer food and eat without looking like an animal - Not Easy.) Then he grabbed my bayonet arm and yanked it opposite of the elbow. "SNAP" there goes the bone above the elbow. Right above the metal supports. Shit shit shit that fuckin'' HURT!

I refuse to beg and I refuse to be a cripple but I'm too broken to use a gun anymore, my plans gone to shit. BUT I WONT BEG, I won't be defeated. I just hope what I did is enough. Goodbye Daryl you always were the sweet one; the smarter one, and I love you even if I couldn't say it. One of my earliest lessons in this cruel world was that you have to be tough to survive all the ugliness and at times fight back with ugliness of your own. No I don't think that it is enjoyable it's just what I hafta do to be a survivor. Ain't as cold as most people think. Even a trashy redneck like me has to have some pride. Damn. So I won't beg and I say so.

"I aint gonna beg. I ain't begging you!"

"No Merle. Ya won't never have to beg not while I'm here." Said Daryl who just snuck in, he fires a bolt at the governor hitting him high in the chest as he turns to his blind side, dropping him to the floor.

Bang the governor's gun goes off and hits me mid chest at an angle

Oww my chest, shit is that what a heart attack feels like? I can't fucking breathe. It hurts. It hurts. Why can I still feel it? The force spins me and throws me down to the floor.

What? Why are you here baby brother!

He told me later he hit governor with a bolt. Right in the chest just like me. But he was too concerned about keepin me breathing to care about endin him.

"Damn pussy Darlina, whatchya here for. Just lemme be. I'm no good now".

"Shut up shut up. Just breathe. Gotta stop the bleeding here hold this wrapper. Your chest sucks (yes I snickered)." As he packed my chest and back wounds full of crap so I wouldn't bleed out.

Darlina leave me leave me why are you dragging me you stupid motherless asshole. What are you doing? OHH the Nubian queen she came to help.

I found out later she followed him the only reason they caught up to me were the damn slow geeks and me playing pied piper of walkers. It's funny that the walkers in some crazy ass way saved ole Merle for the ladies (humph).

**So what do you folks think? Should I continue? If I do I will make every attempt to update at least once a week. My rationale here is that Merle bled out, he could have survived if Daryl was nearby and he was; those walkers are stupid and SLOW. Merle is onion boy as is Daryl, with lots of layers that I want to explore. I plan on this all being first person from multiple POV and one OC added but no Mary Janes. I might get a little OOC but that is expected with growth character development and Merle being forced to grow. OH yeah Merle has a potty mouth. So do I. This is my first fanfiction. Im doing this for fun, so constructive criticism is great but flames are not. I wouldn't do that to you so don't do it to me. That is all; carry on and have fun. **

**ArcheryLefty**


	2. Chapter 2: Another Use for Duct Tape

Bayonet

**Merle vs. governor but plans goes awry and so does a certain bullet. I used 1****st**** person crazy headspace with filthy language, racial slurs and disrespecting women. In other words, the Merle we love and love to hate. Merle and all other characters from TWD are not owned by me but by AMC. The OC is owned by me (much good it will do me). Much of this will be a character study and it all will be 1****st**** person study from multiple characters point of view. I will try to keep it canon but much of it will be behind the scenes that we know best. Slight alterations will occur due to ramifications of that certain bullet going astray and our favorite antihero actually was having some luck for once. **

Chapter 2

In the midst of the chaos that I created, the governor's people did not care about one crappy old car moving slowly. The Nubian Queen was driving me "home" to the prison as Daryl stubbornly tried to stop my bleeding and keep me breathing. Guess he learned something from hunting and our abusive home life (you guessed it; he has patched me up many times). You sometimes get a deer & it is shot through the chest, runs off and suffers, bleeding out, dying from shock as the lungs collapse and air builds up around the lung. This results in too much pressure in the other lung and on the heart. The animal bleeds out or suffocates, but it takes a while. If the lungs don't collapse the animal (or human) can live long enough to bleed to death in agony. I taught Daryl to never let that happen because it seems agonizing.

Now I know it is agonizing. It is so much harder to live in pain and struggle against devastating wounds. Dying would have been the easy part, guess I'm too damn stubborn or stupid to die. Would have literally been the first time I did something the easy way out. It felt as though I was torn apart from the inside. I was getting cold from blood loss. Daryl was screaming at me and calling me soft. But somehow he sealed the sucking wounds and I was still breathing and swearing a stream of inventive cussing only an angry redneck biker would be able to come up with.

I had told him a story of when I was in the marines and one of my fellow soldiers was shot through in the field. The medic applied airtight dressings on his back and semi airtight on the front leaving one side free. It stabilized the lungs until we got him into a hospital & he survived. All they had to do was control his bleeding & lung pressure and hope he didn't die of an infection. Damn him Daryl knew exactly what to do. That boy coulda been so smart if he had finished school but he only has a 10th grade education just like me. That's what ya get when ya grow up in the backswords Dixon clan. He saved me and I didn't really want to be saved. It's hard work healing from nasty injuries like these, and there is always the possibility that I will always be gimpy. When I get moving again I'm gonna kick your ass into tomorrow baby brother.

I'm most worried about having two fingers now gone from my remaining hand. How the hell am I supposed to be able to do all the shit that I've always done when I'm missing most of my fingers. I'm going to be clumsy as shit and will be a liability because others will see me as a cripple and the weak link. I'd see someone that way who is missing most of their fingers. FUCK. This is gonna just' be nearly impossible. Then again I ain't ever been soft. There is some benefit from being underestimated. Just like most people think me a dumb hick, so obviously wrong if someone takes time to know me. I prefer to not give them the chance to see how smart I really am because I can out think most people. So many equate education with intelligence; when most college educated snooty bastards can't out think me. That's why I hated the military.

I don't feel angry anymore now I feel sleepy and calm, I dream, Daryl is a toddler, I'm almost 11 just starting to grow into my size, I'm showing him the fish in the stream and he is laughing his baby laugh, trying to catch the fish in his hands he almost falls in but I catch him, already fearless and loving being outside. "Don't worry brother I've got you, ain't never gonna let you go. You're the only one I've got." Then it hits me. . HE hits me. . . This is now and he won't let me be, He won't let me go, won't let me rest. I'm so tired; damn you, can't you just let me fukin' rest. My chest hurts, my back, my hand, my ribs hurt, my arm hurts, it's hard to breathe each breath feels like my lungs are chewing up glass. But surprisingly enough I'm still breathing my heart is still beating and the bleeding is slowing down.

"Hold on got some walkers up ahead", she guns it and smooch goes the fuckers in the way. Again I dream, it's raining pounding against the cheap tin roof, the holes in my shoes smoosh mud up through my toes (incidentally I HATE being barefoot) I've always equated being on top of the food chain with wearing boots. I'm hearin' my old man crashing around in a drunken state yelling at my mom. I'm 15 or so Darlyina is 7 being a pain in the ass, he just got his umpteenth concussion from the old man and a bloody nose to boot. Stupid kid, why did he have to pour the beer out? When is he gonna learn some brains. I'm not going to be around forever. I care about him, but I gotta get outta here or I'm gonna kill the bastard. My back is still healing from last week and I still have bruises around my throat from being choked. Why do I have to raise him? I'm only 8 years older. ; I don't know nuthin' bout kids. I want to join the military and learn how to put some hurtin' on someone who deserves it and never never be on this end of the pain. What do I do about the kid? He deserves it less than I do. . .

**Short one but lots of Merle/Daryl brotherly love. Please review and let me know what you would like to see. I might try to work it in. You know what they say sharing is caring. If I feel motivated I might have enough for a couple more chapters this weekend sound good? Merle (so obviously is my favorite) I love how they are both complex incredibly undervalued people; smart yet uneducated. Self taught; I really respect that. I'm apraxic so my grammar and typing may at times be assbackwards. Like the Dixons Im way more than what I appear. **

**ArcheryLefty**


	3. Chapter 3: Bleeding Heart

Bayonet

**Merle vs. governor but plans goes awry and so does a certain bullet. I used 1****st**** person crazy headspace with filthy language, racial slurs and disrespecting women. In other words, the Merle we love and love to hate. Merle and all other characters from TWD are not owned by me but by AMC. The OC is owned by me (much good it will do me). Much of this will be a character study and it all will be 1****st**** person study from multiple characters point of view. I will try to keep it canon but much of it will be behind the scenes that we know best. Slight alterations will occur due to ramifications of that certain bullet going astray and our favorite anti-hero actually was having some luck for once. **

Chapter 3

"OPEN THE DAMN GATE"

The car careens inside and Maggie and Glenn are cursing

"Why the fuck did you bring him back. He was going to hand her over hasn't he done enough"

Daryl snaps back at them "Yes he might have given his life now shut the fuck up. HERSHEL! Someone gets him now!

The world goes black and peaceful. I get the first good sleep that I've got in too long, maybe since the rooftop in Atlanta. Hope they're giving me some good drugs cus lord knows I deserve them. I am suddenly airborne. I fly far away on my dreams. Goodbye baby bro.

Daryl POV

He survived the trip and that's more than I expected I can't believe that duct tape and a piece of plastic bag done sealed his holes up in his chest & back. I helped him breathe and when he's well enough I'm gonna tell him what a good kisser he is. He is just so broken, never seen someone take such a bad beating and then get shot right through the chest, lose yet more fingers and live. Hershel's trying to find a donor. Wouldn't ya know that he is a universal donor - whatever the fuck that is? But that means they can receive only one blood type and go figger it's not mine.

IF ANYONE KNOWS THAT THEY HAVE TYPE O- BLOOD PLEASE STEP forward so that Merle here does not make the ultimate sacrifice of giving his life. He has a bad chest wound but can make it if we take good care of him.

"I do!" That's the new chick with the brats, she's big looks healthy. Merle likes them that way junk in the trunk, he likes cushion for the pushin he used to joke.

Hershel starts needling her. She looks calmer than I gave her credit for. "Hey thanks. I'm Daryl. That's ma brother, Merle.

"What happened to him?"

He went and did something damn stupid - tried to take out the Governor"

"He's pretty tough though huh. I'm amazed he survived a shot to the chest like that"

"Yeah he is. Too stubborn to die. Proud too, pain in the ass most of the time, my brother".

"My name is Skya"

"What kind of name is that?"

"What kind of name is Daryl or Merle" (smiles)

"Family names I think"

"My nickname"

"Your real name?"

"Don't use it now"

"Why"

"Why not?"

"You have kids."

"Observant kind of guy I see."

"Their Father?"

"Gone. All of my family is gone. Just me and the rugrats. I think"

"Sorry. How did it happen? As I watch, she tears up but smirks and looks away."

She turns back with a hard look in her blue eyes.

"I can't talk about it yet. It doesn't matter how. It happened and as much as I wish it, I can't make it unhappen. So life goes on we mourn but we have to live life for the living. It is what it is. All I can do is my best I drove and drove with the kids and ended up here. Took a truck full of stuff from a supermarket and drove until I found you people. I followed the convey over from Woodbury after the Governor went batshit. I have medical training to help Hershel & he has agreed to teach me. He needs someone else who can learn to suture and isn't squeamish."

"What kind" I ask

"Huh?"

"Medical training?"

"Oh right; I was an OT"

"What?"

"Occupational therapist." (A what? I think as she continues) "I helped people heal broken bones, learn to compensate while they were healing and be more independent. Get stronger, return to life maybe not the same, but still filled with quality. I loved it. I was good at it too. Hershel asked that I help take care of your brother, but I wanted to talk to you first. I will help take care of him if you let me".

I consider, he needs someone like her from the sounds of it. But Merle is very private and will not want to depend on a woman especially for private needs.

"Might could"

"Huh?"

"You're a Yankee" I laugh at her.

"No shit! But thank you"

"That was a question"

"No that was a statement"

"Where y'all from?"

"Ohio near the lake"

"I'm Proud to be a Yankee I guess. My family was from Maine too. Spent lot of time there as a kid."

"DARYL!" (Carol appears) I start to walk away from Skya who is still bleeding for my brother. I'm feeling a slight sense of relief. Merle might actually have a chance at survival with Hershel and Skya helping him; that others may actually NOT want him to die. I favor Skya with a slight smile. Before I turn away to see what Carol needs.

"Hey Skya thanks. Good to meet you and uh welcome", I thank her, but don't really know what to say.

"Sure later then", she says.

"Hey, Carol" I say as I catch up to her, she looks understandingly concerned. My heart beats faster as I walk up to her. Even now I feel awkward around her. If she could only read my mind; it would relieve me from having to put my thoughts into words. Always so uncomfortable for me, but if it's one thing that I have learned from the dead rising; (the Bible pegged it but I don't think this is what it had in mind) is that I can't be a hermit no more. We have to do this survival thing with people. I tole that to Merle before he ran off like a damn fool with Michonne, nearly got his simpleminded self killed. I can't wait till he is better so I can kick his dumb ass before I embarrass him half to death by hugging him.

"So glad you're back what happened" she asks as I walk up to her.

"My idiot brother attacked the Governor and nearly got hisself killed. He might still die Hershel's not sure yet'

Carol puts her hand to her mouth and gasps "I'm so sorry, I wish I could tell you it's going to be okay. You know I'm here for you whatever you need. He's not a good man but he doesn't deserve this. This really stinks".

She starts pacing

"Yeah it does" I can't help it she always makes me smile. She has the oddest energy; calming to me but she is so often antsy; almost bursting out of herself with energy even if it is quiet energy. I don't know how to explain it. Helps me feel better in my skin, less awkward maybe.

"You Okay?" she asks

I shrug "Don't know but thanks for asking".

"Sure"

"Let me know if I can help"

"Thanks I'm fine for now. Hershel's working on him. I can't go far I gotta help hold him". She puts her hand on my arm. As always, I flinch a little, but she of all people understand why it's not personal. I lean into her a little and smile.

"Is she donating blood? That new woman?" she asks as I begin to walk toward where Hershel is treating Merle.

"Yeah. Universal donor or some such shit"

"Nice of her."

"Yeah. She has medical training too, might help Hershel with Merle".

"You trust her?"

"How would I know but she can help save him. Who am I to refuse that? I will be keeping close watch on her though. I think she could use help protecting her little ones too. I can't turn away a woman with little kids."

**I also like getting into Daryl's headspace. The frustration and love that are wrapped around another and of course the angst he feels around Carol. The OC is not me. But a little of me is in her. We are both moms and work in therapy she is very calm in face of stress more likely to dive in and kick booty then run away. She has a complex past you will see. Suggestions? She is not a Mary Sue; she can be a brat but is passionate in what she believes. Thanks for the love. Keep the reviews coming.**

**ArcheryLefty**


	4. Chapter 4: Humpty Dumpty?

******Merle vs. governor but plans goes awry and so does a certain bullet. I used 1****st**** person crazy head space with filthy language, racial slurs and disrespecting women. In other words, the Merle we love and love to hate. Merle and all other characters from TWD are not owned by me but by AMC. The OC is owned by me (much good it will do me). Much of this will be a character study and it all will be 1****st**** person study from multiple characters point of view. I will try to keep it canon but much of it will be behind the scenes that we know best. Slight alterations will occur due to ramifications of that certain bullet going astray and our favorite anti-hero actually was having some luck for once. **

**_Chapter 4 note: I apologize in advance for medical jargon, but I work in a medical field and when I write about medical subjects. I sometimes get into that head space which is never too far from the surface anyway. However, I did try to tame it a bit. I just wanted my wonderful readers to know that is the exception but not the rule. Bear with me, Hershel thinks like a MD. Merle is a noodle we wont get much from him. Daryl is freaking and Hershel god bless him is holding everyone together. Lets hope others can show him some common (not so common) human decency. Please review review review. Let me know how I'm doing here it motivates me to continue. To my wonderful reviewers thanks so much. You are helping me keep this up. I love writing. You are helping me continue._**

Hershel's POV.

So Merle had to try to take out the Governor's men and kill him. He probably planned to die trying and make up for past mistakes. If I have a measure of Merle and I believe I do. He is not as cold-hearted as he would have people believe but He also is unable to make any connections with people outside of his own family.

Daryl, Rick and Michonne carried Merle in from the car and attempted to gently drop him into my bed. Maggie & Beth are working on setting up my cell into a surgical area to treat him. As I examine the poor fool, up goes, IV bags, units of blood, they set up scalpels, sutures, restraints (hopefully not needed), a crude sling and swathe for his handless arm that is even now sticking out at an angle and needs to be set. Water is being boiled for his care in the kitchen.

The whole prison is buzzing with activity as we prepare to save this sorry excuse of a man. Carol is caring for Judith so Beth and Maggie can assist me with any surgery. Skya watches from an extra cot while donating her blood and Daryl waits for my direction; looking both horrified and hopeful. He sits by Merle who is twitching with pain and shock, mumbling in his dreams. He touches him on the few areas that are not injured, touching his face and left shoulder; smoothing his hair. Talking to him softly love shining out of his eyes. He had probably never expected to see his brother again.

Fresh linens are being washed, clothing that will fit Merle being found (preferably minus the gore and miasma of walker foulness). Carl and Michonne are hauling water to clean his stinky self and keep the possibility of infection down. As I prepare to begin, Rick brings in a gurney to take him to the infirmary when he is stable enough to leave my cell (aka the ICU).

"Daryl I will need you to cut his shirt off and gently remove his prosthetic, but try not to move his arm too much son. Maggie and Beth please stay near and help me move him so I can examine him".

He is going to have a hard time healing because he doesn't know how to rely on others. He has to be the one with the upper hand and he has always relied on his fighting or hunting skills to give him the upper hand. Most people see him as a dumb redneck jerk. And he is. But he also has a razor wit and sense of humor as well as his own sense of honor. Not a bad man but a man with an ambiguous moral compass who followed his need to survive and to protect his younger brother in a world gone mad.

Daryl snips his dirty overshirt and undershirt off revealing a very pale chest, very thin but well muscled. Excellent physique for a man who had to be entering his fifties. What surprises me although maybe it shouldn't, is the amount of old scarring on his chest and a huge burn on the left side of his stomach just visible over the rim of his pants. He stinks horribly. Daryl catches my eye and raises an eyebrow clearly non verbally stating "don't ask trust me you don't want to know". So I see that he was the protective older brother. Daryl has many scars, but Merle is positively covered in them. Some of them layered where lightning so to speak has struck more than once.

So let's see. Massive contusions all over. Massive chest wound sucking with narrowly missing the pericardium and heart. Can't believe his luck. Hit mid sternum cracking it skidding off to the right under the skin looks like it entered the chest cavity through ribs 4&5 breaking them front and back as well as nicking upper lobe of liver and diving through the middle lobe of the right lung before exiting though the back 2 inches beside the spine cracking the border of his scapula. The bleeding is controlled by Daryl's dressings. Infection and keeping the lung pressurized will be the biggest problem here. He is lucky though, he doesn't look like he is bleeding internally, he isn't getting distended or loosing blood pressure.

What else. Right arm broken mid humerus likely out of alignment very nasty will need some traction to reduce the fracture but thankfully doable. Won't be using that arm for quite a while. Will need sling and swathe to tie it into his body might help to support his rib fractures as well. Pneumonia will be a huge concern. He will need massage and reminders to work at expanding those sore ribs and lung.

His remaining hand looks like two more fingers missing. Torn off? How in the world is he going to manage with only a thumb and two fingers? He is not a man who is able in any way to ask for help and yet he will need help. Might have a broken jaw and cracked orbital bone too.

Well my girls and Skya will help and so will Daryl. It's amazing he survived at all. Well better get going we've got a lot of work to do.

Skya finishes donating while I'm examining Merle and beginning to clean him up. He is a mess! We certainly have gotten used to a new degree of dirty since the dead began to walk. No one flinches at being covered in gore. Where before we were worried about pathogens; most of us understand that life is short and no one worries about a long-term illness anymore. Still it's hard to know where his bleeding is and where the extraneous gore ends Turns out Daryl's field dressings were good, luckily he was able to find a plastic bag and some duct tape and apply seal to both wounds so he could breathe.

Daryl waits for further direction as I listen to Merle's heart "he's stable for now but I have to put a chest tube in to get the air out of his chest cavity. "

"Daryl I need you to hold him steady. He is unconscious but not completely out of it."

Now insert a hollow needle between intercostal space between his upper ribs I hear a leak and he begins to breathe more regularly, his blood pressure begins to rebound. Merle moans and starts pushing against Daryl.

"Its ok big brother I'm here I'm not going to let you go. Stop being such a pussy, you can take this. This much whining from a guy who cut his own damn hand off?"

I shake my head I will never understand "Dixon love" but it's clear that they have a deeper bond than most siblings do. I put his chest tube in and seal it to his chest, he moans with the incision but breathes better and his heart rate becomes more stable with the evacuation of the rest of the extraneous air in his chest cavity outside of the lung. I set up a bag of blood to increase his blood volume especially given that we won't know more about internal injuries until his bowels move.

I assess the entrance and exit wounds and I notice that the back wound has cloth sticking out of it. I remove the cloth and open the wound up to remove the rest of the fragments of the bullet and irrigate the wound. Then I pack them again with a sterile dressing. They will bear some careful ongoing observation for infection, deep wounds like that will have to be cleaned changed and repacked every other day at the most.

"OK I will need some assistance setting this arm" Maggie I need you holding his body and Daryl I will need you to hold his stump and elbow and guide his arm as I say - a gentle traction should do it. Looks like his arm was forced behind him and his humerus snapped under the pressure. "

At that point he begins to wake up and he starts screaming.

"Oh hell no yer NOT pulling my arm off. Get off me Daryl what the hell is wrong with ya. That fucking hurts."

I give him an injection to put him back out. We try again and I feel it as his arm slides into place.

"Maggie honey can you make Merle a sling; something to tie his arm snug against his body he can't move any part of his arm for a while."

Now the fingers. It looks as though they were bitten off.

"Daryl, was he bitten by a walker? These stumps look like bite marks and they're crushed almost like a human bite, but I don't see any rotting like you see in a walker bite."

"No Hershel the Governor did that just before he shot him. I saw him spit them out. Never seen anythin' quite like it."

I just couldn't believe it but here is Merle with a missing right hand and a mangled left one. Now we got to clean these stumps up so he can at least get a minimal use out of them. The bones are splintered. The smallest digit is gone just below of the lowest knuckle. I take 2 cm of mangled soft tissue off and stitch the stump closed hopefully he will have some sensation. The ring finger is gone just beyond to the middle knuckle and hopefully he will have slight use of the joint even just to support his grasp a little more. I hope the governor is fastidious about his oral hygiene.

"Maggie can you set up some IV antibiotics? Merle here might have a couple of brutal infections coming his way. So we will have someone watching him at all times. He will probably be out of it for quite a while but it's important to have someone watching his breathing and to make sure he doesn't thrash around in his sleep. It's important that he doesn't lay on his right side due to the chest tube and the severity of his rib and arm fractures. He is just a mess. Daryl I would like you to take a shift, Skya you too. You have good expertise with what he needs being that you are a therapist. I need all the help I can get with him he will be a handful when he wakes.

Daryl POV:

He might just make it but he is the most injured I've ever seen him. All the fights he's been in, the drug problems, how badly Pop hurt him before he left for the military, the juvie, and jail time. The 16 months of hard time in the Military prison. He's never done a number on himself like this. He's a tough, ornery old bastard & if anyone can handle this it will be him. I just hope his anger doesn't stop him from getting better. Maybe for once in his pathetic excuse for a life he may actually listen to someone who can help him (that will be truly the next sign of the end of the world). He is not going to handle his left hand mutilation well. I don't know how to help him with that other than letting him figure things out for himself as he's always done and finding things for him to work on being that he likes to fix things.

Everyone always underestimates him because he is so obviously a simple dumb as shit redneck. Except he ain't; he just acts like one to get people off their guard and then he worms his way into their head and manipulates them. I've never seen someone so good at manipulating others. Yet he will never admit that he feels conflicted about the shit he does, (I know he is though).

It don't stop him from doing shit but he is conflicted. He is a true opportunist, my brother.

He looks so old and tired, bags under his eyes, gaunt, like he hasn't slept in a year. Likely that he hasn't, not since Atlanta, always did have lots of nightmares, he always would be looking out the window in the middle of the night when we were kids and he woke hisself up in a nightmare. He'd say "s'okay Darlina just a nightmare. It won't bite". Thinner than I've ever seen him. Still fit and muscular but aging fast. The world been so hard on him. Looks just like our Daddy but older now than when Daddy got hisself killed. I hope he'll get the care he needs. Maybe learn that it won't kill him to work with others, that he can teach people things too. But here he is in the infirmary with Skya; a mother grizzly if I've ever seen one. I hope she will put him in his place immediately or he will be the worst patient she has ever seen.

Skya is putting the kids to bed here in Hershel's cell where she can watch both them and him. We have set it up to take shifts, with mine being first. I watch her curl up with each in turn, cuddle them talk to them tell them a story sing softly. She is a wonderful Mother. I wonder how she can handle all the change she has gone through. It must be this that gives her strength. She sees me watching her and nods at me then curls up against her son. He fell asleep before she got to him and yet she still gives him the benefit of feeling her curl up with him briefly as he sleeps. Those kids are so lucky. I guess I feel a little envious. Merle and I never had that not even a little. We had to make each other tough so we would survive at all. Merle was there for me in his own way but no one was there for him. Yet maybe he drew strength from having me to be strong for, just like Skya does for her little ones. As I watch him sleep he tries as always to flip over to his right side, groans and swears in his sleep. I scoot him back to his good side. He eases back deeper to sleep and mumbles "Darlina ya pussy" then he sighs and quiets again. I doze too its been a long 2 days. I know he will wake me if he moves.

**So Merle is a hot mess-of course he is. What do we expect out of a guy who is always diving in without using his very intelligent brain. I love Merle but sometimes I could just shake him and ask him how someone who is quite intelligent can be such a dumbass? Sheesh! Im sure Daryl agrees with me. He is saying "Yeah try living with him all yer life". So question is can Hershel glue our Humpty together again? Will Humpty behave or sit still long enough. Merle has a lot to think about once he wakes up. How he said "I. CANT. go. back." but so obviously really wanted to . . . I will post again before Monday. Please read and review. Huge shout out to TheSparrow93 for Reassurance delving into Merle's upbringing prior to Daryl's birth and why we never see him with his shirt off either. Shout out to those who have been bolstering my attempts at writing with reviews. Keep them coming and suggestions will be appreciated and used thanks so much love ya all!**


	5. Chapter 5: Null & Void

Bayonet

**Merle vs. governor but plans goes awry and so does a certain bullet. I used 1****st**** person crazy head space with filthy language, racial slurs and disrespecting women. In other words, the Merle we love and love to hate. Merle and all other characters from TWD are not owned by me but by AMC. The OC is owned by me (much good it will do me). Much of this will be a character study and it all will be 1****st**** person study from multiple characters point of view. I will try to keep it canon but much of it will be behind the scenes that we know best. Slight alterations will occur due to ramifications of that certain bullet going astray and our favorite anti-hero actually was having some luck for once. **

Chapter 5.

Merle POV:

I dream I was flying around the prison watching Hershel, Daryl, Maggie, and the big new chick with juicy tits working on me; yanking on my handless arm broken, scarred, ugly and damn useless. How can something so useless hurt so damn much? I stopped watching when I woke up for a bit. I wonder if I had died a little while there. I started yelling and thrashing around while Daryl and Juicy Tits hold me trying to stop me from hurting myself worse. I'm actually almost crying from pain and fear (though I will never admit it) when they set my handless right arm. I hate it being touched, the stump still really fucking hurts at times. I watch as Daryl and Hershel work on me trying to put the pieces back together. I settle down and slip back into my dreams. My breathing eases and I become calm.

Daryl is 4; I'm almost 12, He is yanking on me to play with him pulling me to the woods by my right arm. I just wanna to go hunting, I'm looking for some nice squirrel or rabbit to overcome the lack of food from my useless dumb cracker parents. Against my better judgment I take him because I notice that he seems scared (what did the dumb kid do now). So I catch no squirrels but there is a rabbit in the trap. When I kill it putting it out of its misery Darlina has a fit, apparently the boy was hoping for a pet. That kid has to toughen up. I wish he wasn't so young but it's better than him loving the pet and having Daddy kill it just for the fun of seeing Daryl cry. He would do it to him too. He did it to me.

I'm 6 the kitten is standing next to my bed nibbling on my fingers of my left hand; those baby teeth are getting a bit sharp I think. Feels like needles to my fingers. I wonder what I can get the kitten to teethe on. That's the last night I had the kitten before daddy hung it in my room letting me come home to its cold dead little body and the smell of cat piss on my bed. Apparently it dared to rub up against him meowing when he was passed out. It was hungry, a kitten that my neighbor had given me for Christmas. The only Christmas gift I ever had. Somehow I never was much interested in the holidays after that.

I drift in and out of consciousness for a long time. I hear snatches of conversation some in Daryl's voice some in Hershel's, some in juicy tits' voice and oddly enough I hear children too. I'm becoming aware more and more of multiple layers of pain and restlessness all over my body; my ribs both left and right, my chest, my back, my arm, my remaining hand, my face. It especially hurts to breathe, and cough. I can't even consider lying on my back or on my right side (I hate lying on my left side with my handless arm on top). I can't remember when I hurt so badly so many places, to the point that I can't flip over on my own. Damn what a fucking pussy, weakling. I feel hot so hot then somebody helps me drink something and I thankfully pass out again; Oh drugs wonderful drugs.

Then finally I drift back. I've only swam in lakes but I've seen the ocean when I was a Marine briefly. Must a been outta my fucking mind. I should have known being in the military wouldn't set so well with me. Listening to all those dumbasses who think they are so much better n me. I showed that pussy; seeing him spit out those five teeth made it almost worth it. Again I'm getting off topic. (they must have me on really good stuff cus'I can't focus worth a shit).

I come to consciousness in waves and it's so strange. I keep hearing kids plenty of them. I hear Daryl off and on and Hershel, Beth, Juicy tits (guess I need to find out her name or I'll only think of her as juicy tits). Lots of coughing but far off.

I finally wake up and there she is just drying off pulling her shirt and bra up over her shoulders. I haven't given myself away yet. I narrow my eyes and hope other southern parts don't make themselves obvious. She is a fine sight. She is tall with broad shoulders, strong, but needs to lose some weight, long dark red hair; but looky here on her right kidney one hell of a scar looks like she was shot a long time ago and they didn't have time to make it pretty. She has a nice ass and long strong legs, strong looking arms and back. Not as old as me but not that young either, musta waited to have those kids.

She finishes putting her shirt back on. Boy she has some nice juicy tits not firm but not pancakes either but nicely formed the same. Her face ain't bad to look at either but she's done caught me now and looks none too happy with ole Merle. I smirk. "Heyyy there sweetness. You're one fine looking nursemaid if I do say myself. I'm already feelin' better. Ummhmm" She smirks, glaring at me.

"Really, Must you ogle me in front of my kids?! Your brother did say that you're a real asshole. Guess I shouldn't be surprised apparently it's just who you are. You would think you never saw a naked female before but I just know that's not true. Now that your done sizing up my tits and ass would you like to know my name or do you even care if I have one."

"Sorry sweetheart, I never miss a God-given opportunity to ogle not when you got such a juicy fat ass and nice tits." I say smirking just can't resist riling her up.

"WHAT THE FUCK are you deaf as well as plainly lacking some thinking skills. Did you get kicked in the head or are you a masochist. I said not in front of my fucking kids you dumb asshole" she is spitting angry. Damn I love messing with a hot-tempered woman. She is definitely a handful in all the right ways. Damn I gotta heal fast.

"By the way my name is SKYA."

She stomps off and plops down by her boy's cot. She rubs his back "sorry honey I know I shouldn't have sworn like that try to get some sleep. Yeah I'm glad he's doing better too. His brother will be happy. Then she starts tickling him. He giggles flips over and then settles in.

Another soft voice calls her "Momma what happened" nothing sweetie that man over there woke up and do you know he has a potty mouth almost as bad as Mommy. Yes honey I know I wasn't being fair. He's hurt and just waking up. I'll try to be nicer. Somehow it's hard now for me. Get some sleep. I need to go see what he needs." She kisses her and cuddles her some more.

She then glares at me and walks over without breaking her gaze and without a word. I can almost feel her snarl at me. She comes back just plops down in a chair next to me. Now in a tank top and short pants no shoes. Doesn't she feel the cold?

Just stares at me. Even slouches down so she can stare more effectively. She has a little smirk on her face. Not sure why she's smirking, but she doesn't say a word she just watches me watching her. Finally after several minutes she speaks.

"I just know you gotta be, feeling like shit, but did you get enough beauty rest.' I snort a laugh. "Shit sweetheart there's not enough beauty sleep in the world to fix this old mug. But ole' Merle's got it where it counts. I jes need a little rest that's all." I cough and groan from the pain while I'm trying to laugh. God that hurts, that's why the smirk the wily vile bitch. I gotta admire her manipulating me; would have done something like that too.

"If you're going to laugh you might want to hold that small pillow to your chest. That usually helps with coughing and sneezing too. Before I get started try to stay off your right side. Most of the fractures are there if you roll over you'll wish you didn't"

I roll my eyes but I don't say anything

'Got some questions for me? Or should I start filling you in on what happened around here while you were out of it. Your call but if you're an asshole to me in front of those kids, I Will make you laugh again. Deal?" she smirks.

I try to sit up and face her better, but my ribs don't let me. "Hold it can we talk about . . . " Sweetheart I've a powerful need to piss I'm damned if I'm gonna do it here." She shoves something at me "urinal . . . use it" she starts to walk off. "Damn girlie will you let me get my head on straight. My hand is all bandaged can you . . ."

"You're going to have to get accustomed to managing a urinal before anything else. I'll hold the blanket up for you to place it"

Sheesh what's her damn problem. . . I'm the one who is hurt. "Damn that feels better", I sigh as I let the piss just pour out of me. How long was I sleeping anyway? She gestures impatiently at me, wrinkling her nose, "Give it here I'll empty it" she stalks off barefoot. I use the time to test what I can move and what's fucked up.

My legs seem fine just achy probably from being in bed from what I'm guessing to be a long time. My jaw is sore as is my eye but my vision is excellent as always. My left hand is bandaged and I'm beginning to remember the bastard biting two of my fingers off while we fought. If that's true this damn world just got a whole lot harder for ole Merle. While I consider my new lack of digits, she comes back calm. She sees my expression and watches me look at my hand. She gets a gentle look in her eyes and sits down next to me but looks away giving me a minute to get myself under control again. "What did you say your name is? I know you don't want me calling you juicy ... "Skya" she interrupts . . . I'm Skya Duncan.

"jeez what were your parents thinking strange name . . . did they want you to get beaten up?. . ."

"old family name I think. Scottish. . . . So what were your parents thinking with both of your names?"

"Old southern names . . . where ya from Yank . . ."

"Cuyahoga, Ohio in the snow belt."

"The what?"

"We get lots more snow than the rest of the area because of Lake Erie. I'm used to it. I loved going skiing and skating when I was little.

"You crazy?"

"Yep you guessed it, certifiable"

"You."

"Yep documented personality disorder."

"Lucky man."

"Not really."

"I know"

"And what do you think you know Juicy Tits"

" Well, I know I'm talking to a not so dumb redneck who wants to piss me off and make me dislike him. So much easier that way right? (she starts pacing. I'm beginning to think that she is moving whenever she is awake)" I know that you're loyal to your brother. You almost gave your life for him. you're brave even if you're a dumbass. You have a heart in there but you like to hide it as much as possible. You're damn stubborn and you have a sense of humor. You expect people to see you as a redneck stereotype and take advantage of them underestimating you. I won't make that mistake. I'm a direct person too, embarrassingly so. I also know all the rules that we used to know are null and void. So it is what it is."

I roll my eyes and smirk "must be some fuckin genius ya done got ole Merle here figured out . . . yeah right"

She shakes her head "whatever . . . I will just leave you to your own devices. I'm going to hang out with the rugrats"

"Did ya have somethin' to tell me . . . darlin?"

"Well if you plan to listen I was going to let you know about your wounds and the flu bug, but you obviously are not interested and I won't waste my breath if you don't give a shit. . ." she starts to turn away

"Hold on there I didn't mean nothin' go ahead and tell me what ya know."

She cocks her head and turns back clears her throat and begins to speak

"You have lots of rib fractures 2 back and front around the bullet, cracked sternum, 2 more ribs on the left we think, your middle right lobe of your lung collapsed and needed to be reinflated, your right shoulder-blade is cracked where the bullet came through, your right upper arm bone the humerus was fractured and out of place. Needed to be reset, pretty nasty too. You know about your two fingers one bitten off above the middle knuckle, may get some use out of it to stabilize your grip but your little finger was taken off just above the lowest knuckle. They are healing well and the infection seems to have cleared. You were delirious for three weeks off and on. Daryl was here for much of that time and helped me take care of you, you would get up and walk to the bathroom and eat a little but never were really with it until now.

Since then we have a bad flu going around and myself, the babies, the little kids, Beth and you are here in isolation due to the nature of the illness attacking the lungs, you are here because your lung was damaged and is still healing. I'm here because I have problems with my lungs normally and the kids are more susceptible to this bug. Hershel thinks it's some weird strain of the swine flu. Daryl went on a run to get meds from the veterinary college. A lot of people have died in their cells and started attacking others. Quite a few were put down, 2 were murdered in cold blood as well, we don't know by who. It been a busy three weeks."

"oooowee holy shit you ain't kidding. I was wonderin' why the first thing I saw when I woke was a toddler .. . Is she yours?"

"No. she belongs to all of us now. Sweet little thing. She pays a lot of attention to you. I can't imagine why. It must be your scintillating personality or cultured wit."

She says that with a smirk and a sarcastic glint in her eyes. I smirk back and start to laugh which doubles me over in pain as my ribs, sore lung and hole in my chest and back, all holler at me. She continues to speak ignoring me as I grunt and groan in pain.

I gasp out a question "So tell me your story, how did a Yankee get to be here with kids all alone?" She gets up and paces quickly "My family was visiting my sister-in-law and her family in the mountains near here. We were due to start driving back north in a couple of days but then the world collapsed. We started seeing these crazy news reports about cannibalism and how they can only be stopped by a head injury. I couldn't believe that it was real, but I found out all too soon that it was. I called my mom who was going to fly out to California to be with my sister until things stabilized. She had just gotten off the plane and met my sister. I called my sister the next day to ask that she stays there and to let her know that we were all right. That's the last I heard from either of them.

My husband's neice and nephew and their babies flew home the day before all the flights were cancelled. Lucky thing too. The day that my family died was at the end of an insomnia cycle that I go through with weather changes. I know when something is coming. My migraine saved my life that day when I went to take a nap during a meal. My husband and in-laws stayed outside while my kids were playing inside, being that they don't like the Georgia heat. I woke up to my kids running into my room screaming while the adults in my family were being torn apart by those monsters. I found a butcher knife and did what I needed to. I still can't believe I did that. But my kids and I survived at least" She stops her agitated pacing and stares out a nearby window, still and silent and far away in her thoughts, stifling silent sobs.

So many stories like that but unlike most she had the strength to survive.

"Shit girl that's a miserable story. I'm sorry to hear it"

"Thanks for saying that Merle"

She looks off into dusk for awhile, her shoulders moving "Crying won't bring them back ya know you gotta be strong for those little kids and teach them how to be tough in this goddamn awful world we got." She smirks and turns her profile to me "And to think Merle you almost showed an understanding side. How wrong I was. Get some more rest. I'll be alright".


	6. Chapter 6: Sailing the Seas of Angst

**Merle vs. governor but plans goes awry and so does a certain bullet. I used 1****st**** person crazy head space with filthy language, racial slurs and disrespecting women. In other words, the Merle we love and love to hate. Merle and all other characters from TWD are not owned by me but by AMC. The OC is owned by me (much good it will do me). Much of this will be a character study and it all will be 1****st**** person study from multiple characters point of view. I will try to keep it canon but much of it will be behind the scenes that we know best. Slight alterations will occur due to ramifications of that certain bullet going astray and our favorite anti-hero actually was having some luck for once. **

**This chapter is meant to be more of a flow of Merle's thoughts than an organized progression of the story (I promise that will come later). Now that he's finally conscious he needs to consider his situation. The poor doofus just woke up and can barely move because of multiple significant injuries. He has a new chest piercing (all they way through), that he had not planned on. Both arms are compromised in different ways that cause his usual method of compensation impossible. What's a guy to do? . . . umm sulk and brood. Oh yeah, he has absolutely no energy so he sleeps a lot and really wishes he could stop dreaming and get some healing rest. Poor guy. he just wants to be left alone. He can't even leave himself alone. Jeez, He just needs a break already (or nine). **

**Please review so I know what I'm doing right. I love to write, Merle just jumps onto the computer screen and takes over. He almost types as poorly as I do. But he just flows onto the page; sometimes takes a bit of rearranging to state clearly what he is thinking. So let me know if you like this style. For some reason 1st person lends itself best to my thinking style. I have always liked to be told a story. Merle just wont shut the hell up. I've always had a soft spot for smartasses. But seriously I need some reviews to feel some love and learn how to write better. This is new for me and I am aware that it is obvious. THANK YOU ;-)**

Merle's POV

Skya gets up and goes to help Beth with the kids as I stare up at the ceiling thinking some gloomy fuckin' thoughts even for 'ole Merle. I don' need Skya, Daryl or anyone seeing me as soft, but I ain't never been this badly fucked up before and it's going to take time for me to heal. What is messing with my head the most is that I can't go back to the way I was. After my bones knit and the lung and soft tissue wounds heal. After the wounds become the newest additions to my massive collection of scar tissue. After I cease to cough shit up like an old man, I will still have no right hand and have to rely on a mangled left hand that is missing two fingers. So two months from now or two years from now if I continue my redneck excuse for a life, I will still have more mangled stubs than useful digits.

I still will have to defend myself and look like everything is relatively normal, and I will have it no other way. I'm a survivor goddammit. I do not want to look like a target in this fucked up brutal excuse for a world. Because I know how brutal men think. I after all am one. I would do everything in my power to take advantage of a crip like me (I can barely even form those thoughts in my head). On the other hand, (yeah right), I can use being underestimated to my advantage. I've been looked at as a stupid worthless redneck all of my life, by teachers, law enforcement, military superiors and even my family.

So now I'll be seen as the crip with barely any digits and unable to defend himself (not if I have anything to say about that). I can't go back just as I told the Nubian queen, but maybe I can move forward and figure out some way around this fuckin' mess. I'm smart enough sure as shit; but am I tolerant enough. A patient man I am not! What scares the ever-living shit out of me is that I have to protect my remaining digits from any other injuries. I lose any more fingers and I truly will be a cripple in every sense of the word and I will choose between having to accept help for many things or eating a bullet

As I consider everything I grunt and moan and finally get myself to my current normal hunched over sitting position. I need to move as much as I can. I start gradually straightening my abdomen bit by bit, almost the piece by piece movement of a rollercoaster car at the carnival that Daryl and I used to sneak into every year. I lean on my hand and try to hold myself upright as a sheen of sweat bathes my body and drips from my face. Plus it feels like I've got shattered glass in my lung as if my body cries its own broken tears against the stupidity that I showed in desperately taking on the governor for Daryl's sake.

The ironic thing is that it worked; three days after Daryl, Hershel, Maggie and Skya repaired my injuries to the best of their ability; they loaded me back into the same car I nearly died in along with the smallest kids. They hid us out in the woods while the governor and his unwilling untrained army attacked my new home. I of course was insensible in the land of dreams.

It will be awhile before I can lift more than myself off the bed. In fact getting myself dressed, eating, even just flipping over in bed is going to be one hell of a challenge in itself. In fact I have so many broken bones its damn near impossible for me to find a good position to sleep, or even to turn over in bed. I ease myself to my side (grunting trying to not be obvious how bad I hurt) where the pain isn't awful and watch she and Beth play with the kids and babies for a while.

I truly hate the helplessness that lying on my left side causes, I can only grip with my left and yet I'm lying on it. I can't even throw the blanket over my ass without some painful maneuvering using my right foot to hook the blanket and toss it up to my arm where I pin it with the mangled remains of my right wrist, then I finally have it in position to grab it with my remaining stubby paw. I almost would have an easier time rolling over grabbing the fucking blanket and rolling back but Im so painful and loud that juicy tits or Daryl if he's around, will come to investigate not realizing that I don't require company. Sheesh, I'm a cranky fuck when I'm recovering from injuries; much worse than my usual cranky demeanor. I try to sleep, hoping to sleep without the usual horrifying nightmares. I drift away to the harness of my dreams.

I sleep.

I dream.

Daryl is 1 I'm 9 he is learning to walk Momma was watching him play and I come home to her sitting on the porch with wine, smokes, blocks, a stuffed dog (he loved that thing and took it everywhere). She was a quarter Cherokee, and when she sat in the sun got the most beautiful tan, I inherited our Daddy's Irish features and coloring with annoying curly hair (I keep it cropped) and tendency to grey prematurely. At least I got the taller stronger build. Daryl looks more like our Mother with his Cherokee features, tall, lanky build, and tendency to tan. We both have Daddy's angry blue eyes and hotheaded nature. Momma and I watched Daryl's baby antics for a while and then I napped. He woke me by patting me on the face with his sticky baby hands.

Momma smiled and said "he trusts his big brother. You know brothers can have a special bond, deepened by the blood they share. You look out for him now and he will look out for you when he is old enough. You're more like your Daddy and he is more like me. You can choose to be as your Daddy used to be before the drink and the fighting destroyed him, I hope you will never let his anger destroy you.

Your brother is going to need you to protect him and teach him what grandpa taught you about hunting and tracking, so if he needs to he can come to the woods to be safe. I can't stop the hittin' especially since you and Daddy provoke each other. I'm sorry honey life is hard for us all. You have to be strong and never let him see your fear or he will act like a junkyard dog"

I woke to a toddler patting my face with her sticky hands. I smiled at her and said "boo" she giggled and fell down on her diaper thick butt. "Where is your momma sweetheart? Dontcha know that people think that ole Merle likes to eat babies for breakfast? Nom Nom Nom!" I laugh with her. People don't know that I practically raised my baby brother; especially after Momma died while smoking in bed. I'm still good with little kids but no one seems to trust me around them. I guess I don't look so scary right now curled up in bed covered in bandages, barely able to move, without "little merle" protecting & weaponising my mutilated arm.

Well I gotta toughen up and start moving sometime, I groan, roll to my left and realize how bad my right side hurts when I try to push myself with my broken arm. I suck air for a little and then manage to sit up leaning on my sore left hand. Just one hot mess all over. The little girl says Boo boo? I smile at her, "yes honey I've got a boo boo but I'm better".

Skya sees me and marches over smiling but has a wry look in her eyes. "Looking better, I see" I reach for my head to itch, and Damn my hair got long, I can feel tangled curly hair at least 3 inches long. "Oh I doubt it, feels like I've got some wool on the ole dome here" – hey I know I'm fucked up to look at. I've played hard and fast and it shows, but it never matters to the ladies because I'm good in bed and I'm intimidating as fuck when I want to be, and I can laugh. She cocks her head like a bird considering what she sees "so what's first? Food or nature's call"

I snort with the humping mental image, and groan with Pain from my chest and ribs. "Serves you right dirty mind" she laughs. "Juicy tits" (I begin) "you can't even begin to fully imagine . . .jes wait till I'm better then I'll make it worth your while umm hmm but now it's time to drain the weasel" she comes over and starts to help me up. I push her away "Nah let me try it first." I lean forward and try to get to my feet & get up halfway but my knees buckle & I sit down hard. "Alright you can help me up" she wraps her arm around my waist and helps me steady myself after boosting me.

"Merle just wait a minute get your bearings. Better?" Okay take it slow. You've been out for a while" Okay I'm trying to be patient but I don't like needing help so I channel the smartass "alright juicytits I'll let you know when I need you. I don' plan on taking orders" . . . and the room spins I sag against her. I nearly vomit & all I can hear is the beating of my heart in time with the throbbing of my back and arm. She's strong and holds me steady until my vision clears. "Hey asshole next time I'll let you taste concrete. Now let's get you to the bathroom so you can as you so subtlety put it can 'drain the weasel' ". I look at her and smile I hafta say she has a certain take-no-shit style that I won't admit I admire.

She gets me there and I'm able to do the deed leaning against the wall like a pussy the whole time. Even I hafta admit I'm really off-balance because my useless broken arm is strapped to my side. Damn this sucks. Woulda been much easier to die than feel like this. I have never needed help afore I don't plan to now. I just have to be smarter to figger out how I can work things with my remaining hand mangled and my arm outta commission. My hand hurts like hell when I have to manage my boxers and pull myself out to piss. Out comes groans I can't control & a nonstop stream of creative cussin', putting me in a really shitty mood. Knowing I need her at least for now I wisely (for once) shut the fuck up. Just as wisely she doesn't comment on all the groaning and swearing she heard. She uneventfully leads me back to bed and helps me ease myself in. gets me some pain meds and I am out like a light.

I wake & smell good smells but more interesting are the sounds. I hear rubbing sounds. I look around and see Skya rubbing her back on the side of door with a big grimace on her face. Up and down up and down she really put energy in it too. She looks like she is in pain, I didn't notice but she must be sick or injured too. She groans and sees me watching her. "You alright girl? You hurt too?" I ask her.

"What? Oh no that's not it. No I just was trying to stretch my lower back." I have a medical condition that I have to keep on top of stretching sometimes helps. No worries" she smiles. What the hell? But she's not saying any more. I groan and gingerly sit up and she lets me struggle up myself. I sit up and look at her, asking "hey anything to eat? I feel like I ain't eaten in awhile." She smiles and hands me a plate. "Want to eat in bed or in a chair where your back has some support? I hand my plate back and look for the chair. " Ya-huh sounds like a plan" then I get up she moves to my right "hold on lemme try fer myself. I gotta get used to this shit" I stop before moving I learned from last time to expect dizziness at first. This time I don't pass out like a pussy. "I'm okay." I make my way slowly and painfully over to the chair. I groan while I'm sitting down. "Sheeeit. Alrighty I'm ready".

She drags a table over and puts the plate on it to my left. Now it's time to try my mangled hand out for the first time with food. She's given me potatoes, stewed tomatoes, and some kinda meat. I lift it and smell ahhh venison. "Your brother came back last night brought down a small buck, sat up the night with you but didn't want to wake you. He says you normally aren't much of a sleeper so we should let you sleep as much as you can. He found the meds for the flu victims. So we should be out of isolation in a couple of weeks more."

I notice a whole bunch of kids and Beth all looking at me while they are eating. "So how many are yours? I ask. "Two are my children Mya and Liam come meet Merle" I see a tallish boy and a little towhead girl come forward. "He is almost 11 she's going to be 8". I grunt, I'm best with little kids before they can talk back.

"foods good" I say. My hand is throbbing and the bandages around my new finger stubs make me even clumsier. She must have realized how hard it was going to be and cut my food up in small bites that a clumsy off-handed person could manage if they were drunk. Therefore I can do it too, spilling only a little. She watches but says nothing as I struggle to manage. I put the food down for a while to rest my hand which is pulsing with my heartbeat but at least is taking some of the pain away from my gunshot wounds.

She wanders off and sits down at the table with a bunch of kids and Beth the old man's daughter. She smiles and laughs with Beth, and helps the baby eat his mush, the toddler girl who woke me is spilling the milk and she wipes it up patting her on the head. Her girl and boy sit on opposite sides of her. I observe her (and her two kids watch me with similar curiosity – I smirk, they smile). She has long reddish-brown hair straight and shiny nearly down to her butt. She is quite tall, taller than most women I've been with. She is busty and curvy, could lose some weight, but I like a little cushion, not young but younger than I am. Definitely to my liking even if she is a little too tall.

She has a strong build. I know for a fact she is strong because she kept me on my feet when I started to fall. She starts in on her own food left-handed; time to time she rubs her right hip with her hand as if it hurts. Interesting. She wears a tank top with jeans and is barefoot. Odd. Her hair is pulled back in some sort of clip. I would love to put my face in her hair and nip her neck squeeze her nice tits, ummm. Gotta stop this before I get too aroused. I can't even whack off yet. Damn I hate being a crip. My hand is still pretty sore and given how my wrist stump healed it will be awhile before I'm without pain... So I need to slow down. Merle this is the first time you've been out of bed without assistance in how long I don't even know, I remind myself. But the privacy to ogle her is nice.

I get up gingerly on my own and wait until my body creaks into the right position, then I slowly head back to bed. I make it all by myself and am lying down when I groan "oh fuck me". I lay down fully on my right arm end up rolling hard onto the exit wound on my back. And now I'm seeing stars, and pulsing with pain. Skya comes over and sits next to me, putting her hand on my forehead. "Merle think. You're out of bed one day and if you fell on hard concrete you could open up your stitches or rebreak some of your healing bones. Shush let me finish before you say something shitty. If you reinjure yourself you get to have help for longer which you so obviously hate. And I don't blame you for by the way. I always hated people helping me with personal stuff too. I will be more than happy when you can do for yourself so I no longer have the kids learning all sorts of wonderful southern cussing from you. I prefer them to cuss like northerners by the way".

I clutch my side as I let out a snort. Damn the girl has my sense of humor down. Laughing hurts more than anything else right now. "Shit girl you definitely know how to get me back. I'm gonna have a reckoning with you when I'm better" She smiles "Merle I look forward to it. You know I do". She walks away and leaves me to think. I am lost in my thoughts before I realize how masterfully she manipulated me into forgetting to be angry with her. Now that's usually how I get people to lower their guard. Sometimes humor is a very effective weapon to manipulate and to outthink your opponent. Not yet sure if she sees me as an opponent. But fucked up as I am I can't afford to lower my guard around her. I watch her play with the kids for a while and then she curls up on a mattress near my bed and starts reading a book with a smile on her face. I get comfortable and I sleep (again!).

**Wow monster chapter! There will be more character interaction and gradually more physicality as Merle feels better and can be more dynamic. He will be back to being a crazy, pain in the butt, asshat with the morals of a junkyard roach and humor of a looneytunes crypt critter. Enjoy (umm sorry I've had too much caffeine and too little sleep. I'm a bit over the top tonight. The time change always messes with my sleep pattern even for an mild insomniac.**


	7. Chapter 7:Corpseflower & a Big Bad Itch

******Merle vs. governor but plans goes awry and so does a certain bullet. The rest of the story deals with the repercussions. How does he move on from this. Does he survive the asskicking he will get from Daryl. Read and see. I used 1****st**** person crazy head space with filthy language, racial slurs and disrespecting women. In other words, the Merle we love and love to hate. Merle and all other characters from TWD are not owned by me but by AMC. The OC is owned by me (much good it will do me). Much of this will be a character study and it all will be 1****st**** person study from multiple characters point of view. I will try to keep it canon but much of it will be behind the scenes that we know best. Slight alterations will occur due to ramifications of that certain bullet going astray and our favorite anti-hero actually was having some luck for once. **

**Chapter notes: Merle's subconscious is getting kind of crowded with a new OC and dream sequence. He is feeling better and healing therefore he is starting to get more restless and some of his quirks are beginning to come back to the surface. He's still Merle but this is changing him. I don't believe in what you find in some of the fan fics. That a badass character wounded than saved is going to turn around completely. He is however being forced to think things through for stinking once. I've thought that Merle is quite bright the way he gets in people's brains. Too bad TWD didn't explore that side of him. Even a loose cannon has to be built. Also ( ) indicates that he is talking to himself silently. Thanks for reading people ****J review review review TY. **

Corpse Flower & the Big Bad Itch

Merle's dream POV

Humming, I hear a rocking chair creaking, just like one that we had when I was little, before Daddy lost his job, before Mommy turned drunk, before Daryl arrived. I can barely remember anything from then. My early life is a mystery to me. I've forgotten what my Momma looked like when she was still pretty before her skin turned yellow, before her eyes were glassy and before she smelled like old smoke. But there she is, next to me, humming to me under her breath rocking.

I'm 7, her tummy is just starting to round with Daryl. She has shiny long dark brown hair down to her waist and soft tan skin, high cheekbones and long lean limbs, showing her quarter Cherokee ancestry. She was almost as tall as Daddy. Daryl and I have our height from her. She has bags under her eyes from staying up with me. I'm sick. She pats my face and strokes my back. "Sorry you're feeling poorly sweetie". I sit up in my dream and suddenly I'm grown up and as injured as I am now. She continues "you were always such a sweet little boy and wonderful big brother. I'm so sorry things were so bad when you and Daryl were little. I'm so sorry I didn't protect you and that I died so suddenly".

I'm dreaming I know I am but fuck me sideways it's so vivid.

"Honey I was sick, to the bottom of my heart and soul. I can't say anything that will change the past or make anything better for you. I know you were tormented by Daddy, and you were too young to raise Daryl. You should have never been put in the position where you had to protect your little brother from your own Daddy. You both have so many scars on you both but the worst ones are on your souls. This Merle against the world attitude has to stop. DO you HEAR me clearly, my son?

Daryl needs you here with him. You have lost each other for so many years & you have been angry and lost for so long. It's time for you to be strong in a whole different way. Not just assume people are worthless. Everybody has a story son. Just like you hate to be judged on what others assume you are. There is far more to you than meets the eye. But Daryl is right you can't do without people especially in the world of the Dead. Take it from one who knows all too well."

I speak to her afraid she will leave again "Momma why didn't you take us away from him when he started beating me, when he burned me like he did. I was only 4, why didn't the police ever help, or better yet take us to another town, where we would have a chance and not be judged by our name." why the hell did you start getting drunk and leave an innocent kid to fix the mess you made, and worse expect me to be a parent to Daryl when I needed a parent myself. What the fuck could I have possibly done wrong to deserve any of this? What kind of fucking justice was that? And yet you want me to listen now?"

What about me abandoned on a roof sawing my fucking hand off. What about me in the brig 16 months alone. What about me fighting in Grenada and being shot through my side. I could have used your fuckin' support then even as a ghost. She turns back half her face decayed. "Im a ghost who loves you; I can't change the past; who knows son? Is it the chicken or the egg; or was it the dinosaur all along. Hear me son? When you doubt as you will, remember the chicken and the dinosaur quote. That's my creation; who else would know it. Please don't forget to learn my son, you can be a prick; just don't hurt the little fuckers anymore. And discuss shit with them before you go and do something dumbass. I look again and really look. My mother has turned into Daryl."

Merle POV awake

I wake from the most real seeming damn dream I've ever had. I have started to sleepwalk again (SHIT) but I'm too weak to make it very far. I'm sitting on the floor below the bar covered window, not knowing how I got here, not knowing if I can get back up on my own, but the night air and night sounds far above me is slightly relaxing. I have a lot to fuckin' consider. It's the middle of the night. I hear her again, Skya rubbing her back yet again. She's gonna go and take her own hide off the way she's rubbing at it. That damn rubbing again up & down up & down on the fucking door of the closet facing away from me. What the hell is wrong with that bitch? I watch her silently. Always her right side and hip and always with a look of pain and concentration on her face. Somthin' she's hiding. I notice that its late at night and all the kids are sacked out two to a bed or crib.

Speaking of which I ITCH horribly, my back my chest and worse of all my fuckin' finger stubs; must be healing. Watching her makes me want to rub my healing wounds on my back and my chest. I know better, having had to treat our wounds from my fucking daddy beating the shit outta me and Daryl for no reason other than he was a drug and alcohol infested psychopath. When yer skin is on the mend it itches worse than poison oak.

I try to distract myself by attempting to get up from my sitting position; having wisely stayed silent until now. I find a piece of bandage to bite on and push onto my knees and supporting with my chewed up hand.

(Damn governor).

Now all I have to do is push into the wall on my right and slide up using the strength of my legs.

(Okay Merle you cracker fuck. MOVE yer ASS BOY)

I start pushing up with my strong legs sliding along my broken arm to a standing position.

(SHIT-THAT-HURTS).

I finally end up leaning my right shoulder against the wall breathing like I was outrunning the cops. Always was a good runner, helps to be tall and lean but strong. I'm also completely dizzy; the idea that I will have to ask for help is more painful than my injuries.

(FUCK).

While she is busy. I start assessing myself. I now obviously am moving around better being that I went for a walk tonight

(Too bad I wasn't awake; I might have enjoyed the accomplishment).

So my chest and back ribs and arm are healing. My back still hurts worse than anything and I have to work hard at sitting/standing up straight. My back muscles will take a lot of work before I can. I'm short of breath but not worse than when I get some bad weed. I still feel like I have glass in my lung but much better and easier to breath as long as it's not too deep.

My right arm is in a sling and it is tied around my middle for less movement. I've had a broken arm before I know the drill. Damn frustrating. I think the break is pretty bad from the amount of pain that still hits in waves when I move too quickly. It's harder to rehab an arm when you have no hand to use. It took me awhile to strengthen up when I cut my damn hand off; now I've done gone & injured it again. It will be a LONG time before I can lift that bayonet or even think about the metal cuff, much less throwing a stump punch (inner sigh).

Even though there ain't no hand there I am still and will always be a righty. I still try to use it and worst of all I still want to sleep with it behind my head. So being in a grumpy mood I do what comes naturally.

Find someone to annoy (Yep I expect I can do that)

"Hey there juicytits. Ya tryin' to rub a hole in the damn wall. What the fuck is wrong with you girl."

(I'm dizzy and stranded please help me get back to bed)

She glares into the dark

"Stop calling me juicytits you prick besides it's none your damn business, asshole redneck. I just need to stretch, being that I can't reach my itch this is the best way. When I lift more, I need more of a stretch". Then she turns and looks at me or so she thinks

" . . .SHIT". Then she stares not finding me in bed as expected.

I snort "over here, I thought I would take a little walk maybe try some pushups or lift some weights. Yep gotta get stronger"

(I'm sleepwalking again. I do that sometimes & never know when. Help!)

She comes over to me in a concerned huff, ready to tear me a new one and stops short seeing something in my face, raises eyebrow at me.

" . . . The fuck? (Such a lady)"

"jus needed some fresh air"

"dumb ass you TRYING to fall and reinjure yourself? I love your determination but to you really think you need to taste concrete in the middle of the night?

"I hate everyone watching me looking at me like I'm a gimp. I like to do this in privacy sometimes. I mean obviously I've been injured before. I'm a good judge of my abilities even though I don' seem like it. Oh yeah sometimes I sleepwalk"

(Holy shit I'm being so honest. I must be really fuckin' tired)

"Yer damn rubbing got me moving too. I used to wake up itchy when I was a kid and had sore spots healing. Id sleepwalk and end up near a window jus' staring' out smelling the air usually calmed me and woke me. Once I woke up in the yard starkus nekkid with my old neighbor lady hitting me with a broom her hair pinned up wearing a too short house coat. Woulda been damn funny if my daddy didn't get ahold of me shortly after".

I allow her to put her arm around my sore right side and guide me back to bed farther than I thought. I groaned into a sitting position rubbing my own back very gently.

"Darlin' whatcha rubbin at anyway? New kind of clap?" I snort

"Darn it Merle you already seen it you just don't remember" She yanks her shirt up and there peeping over her sweats is one of the ugliest scars I've ever seen (and that's saying something it just looks wrong on her pretty freckled skin). Thick and twisted and deep to the bone. Right over her right hip and kidney.

"Sheeeit girl what the hell did you go and do to yerself. You've had that a while huh".

It's the mark I saw when I first woke. A mark that had to be fixed quickly before she bled out and they didn't have time to fix it right or make it pretty. From the looks of it at least ten years old. I touch it and feel how bound up the skin is and how tight it's getting.

"I was shot Merle a long time ago when I lived in Manhattan I was walking in central park watching a game of football and I heard a firecracker and felt like I got bit by a large dog. I put my hand back and was suddenly covered in blood I passed out then and woke up in the hospital 3 weeks later. I was shot by accident they never found who did it. Must have been aiming at someone else and was in the way. I lost my kidney and two ribs. They had to harvest bone from my pelvis to replace my ribs. But as you can see I'm dented where the ribs they made don't quite fit and the scar adheres to muscles.

So you see I need stretched but can't do it myself. I need someone to pull on both ends of the scar and break up the adhesions" And in the absence of someone who is willing to hurt me a little and wont pity me I rub rub rub and for a change of pace rub some more. So you see scars and ugly wounds don't bother me because I've been there and bought the t-shirt. Scars are testament to surviving a tragedy and giving it the finger before moving on with life.

Just part of life's journey and getting on the wrong road for a while before you find your way back but you're changed and stronger, maybe more cynical. Life dumped some superglue on to cover the broken parts. By the way superglue is great for wounds did you know that. Keeps out all the bugs. Used it on your fingers. Because fingers just get all the nasty cooties imaginable."

I think my mouth is hanging open because I literally have no comeback for this. We sit in companionable silence with her shirt half up her back and my hand on her scar. Then of course Daryl shows up.

**OOOs Daryl gonna think hee hee. **

**Interestingly enough I used to live in NYC 20 years ago. I was watching a Rugby match in Central Park and I heard nearby gunshots. I wondered how many innocent bystanders get shot doing the most mundane of activities. Later that evening on the news were stories of someone being killed right near central park, a drive by shooting. Maybe that could have been me. (I've never been shot by the way thank gods) Skya is not so lucky. **

**So any thoughts where this should go next. I love suggestions I love writing. Please let me know what you would like to see and I might try to use it. I love it when my favorite authors take a suggestion. I love constructive criticism too. Carry on peeps and enjoy thanks for stopping by.**


	8. Chapter 8: Adhesions & Karma

** Ok so get ready for some angst Merle and Daryl (umm disclaimer owned by AMC/Kirkman not by me yatta yatt) get into it a little these Dixon Boys love each other so deeply they will sacrifice anything but they wont talk about it and they never ever look back but fate has a funny way of slapping you up the head to get your attention and karma is a wily bitch. I can respect that. Heh heh heh (laughs evilly). Graphic child abuse of a very young Merle is mentioned. self injury is alluded to so is substance abuse.**

8.

Her skin is warm to the touch, pale with a dusting of freckles all over. Her scar is like a divot in her side an ugly canyon marring her soft skin contrasting with her assertive beauty. I test the flexibility of her skin earning a sharp in drawn breath and a light groan. her skin is drawn in the middle of the scar about 5 inches long. I test its edges stuck in the middle but more mobile up her hip and down to her buttocks. it's almost the length of my hand, but being that my chewed remains of digits have broken bones and stitches still healing I am not able to put pressure on that side of my hand, even though my hand is large enough to stretch. I will have to have Daryl stretch her (SHIT - I hate admitting that I need help due to my lack of digits.)

"Merle? What the hell?"

Daryl is standing there gnawing on his thumb eyeing Skya n' me looking for all the world like I'm tryin' to bump uglies with her, but for once'n my life, I was only touching & not tryin' to get in her pants. He actually interrupted a nice moment, a moment where I felt almost regular for the first time since I woke up. It was a good 5 minutes, where I concentrated on the softness of the skin around her scar and the vulnerability of her letting me touch her very tight scar, looking at the redness and how it is glued to the tissue around it.

"You are barely able to sit up on your own and you're putting moves on her already?" Daryl continues to dress me down "In front of all those little kids . . . Damn! And you Skya. . . you're no better. I'll not deny chicks dig my brother but it's usually because they're sluttier than a coon in heat. I thought you better than that."

"the fuck . . ."(I wanted to feel normal for longer you came back too early little brother) I start to jump to my feet instinctually wanting to pound his face through his skull, then I remember not only am I full of broken bones but I can't actually punch anything with either side. I sigh with frustration and settle into yelling at the Boy. "what fucking business of yours boy; at least one of us has the stones to even attempt. what are they just for decoration, Huh? why don' you find someone else to bother" (I don't like looking like a cripple in front of my brother).

She has that way of slowly smiling; if you look you can see many responses filtering through her brain. Then she looks me in the eye with a wry smile; starts to bring my brother back to reality and put him in his place without me losing respect in his eyes. "Now Daryl don't be jealous of your brother. Just because I've had opportunity to get cozy with him. Doesn't mean I'm as slutty as a female coon. He was actually assessing my scar and trying to figure out how to stretch it for me. I'll only let certain people work my scar. Those who won't make me feel pitiful being disfigured."

Wow that really put him in his place. Not the scathin' one liner that I expected but made him shut up and stop assuming the fuckin' worst of me. His mouth drops open for a moment and he gives us both a double look. I smile and comb my fingers through my increasingly unruly curls, snorting in humor

"You're looking at her scar Merle? Really?"

"Yep little brother. Among other things. Skya winces at that "hey guys I'm right here and not liking to hear that.

I look at Daryl looking at me; he nods, and helps me get my shirt up to my bad shoulder even though she has seen my scars before she hasnt looked at them like she is now there is almost no unscarred skin on my back and sometimes I get tight. usually a hot shower does the trick. He sits next to me and pulls up his shirt to show her at least some of his back. Unlike me he cares; doesn't willingly show others his scars. We show her both our backs. "No pity 'ere sweetheart, Daryl and I have our share of licks". (I don't show my back very often either but I don't exactly care. I've never been ashamed of my body. Theres only one scar that I wont show even Daryl hasent seen that one. It was my first and my worst) Most people think I'm scarred because I was in the military and because I'm an unrepentant prick.

Skya considers, I watch Daryl watching her. I hope she says the right thing.

"Okay I get it. Thanks guys"

"Who can stretch me" she says looking at me

"Well Daryl has two hands and no broken bones, I vote for him"

Daryl steps up to her and looks at her scar. "What happened to you girl? This looks old too. How come it never got fixed?" She lies down on my bed; I groan and move to the chair. For once my noises are ignored which I like. She considers and . . ."I was shot by mistake while I was watching a football game in central park when I lived in New York city 20 years ago. I was an animal researcher at the Bronx zoo specializing in crocodilians". (Holy shit really, the layers onion girl so many layers I've never suspected). "It felt like a big dog took a chunk out of me. When I put my hand to my back it came up dripping full of blood and that's the last thing I knew until 3 weeks later when I woke up at Jacobi Hospital in NYC."

"They had to remove my right kidney and two ribs, replaced the ribs with part of my pelvis. So they grafted skin from my leg, the grafts didn't take; they tried a second time but had to close it as best as they could. They showed me how to keep it stretched and how to work out the adhesions. I was fine for almost twenty years. Then 5 years ago when I had Mya, things got sore again, even though I was fine when Liam was born. I was getting scheduled for plastic surgery when the dead began to walk, but now that's gone along with the rest of society."

"Damn girl that sucks. Sorry for that." Daryl puts one hand above her scar and the other below. "Hold tight girl this might hurt a little, Im not sure how far to stretch ya. Just holler if I need to stop." She grimaces and groans, Daryl looks worried, and then she says. "No keep going this is good pain, REAL GOOD Ummm". I have to turn away and hug myself; laughing still hurts more than anything but damn if they only knew how that sounded. I look at Daryl who is blushing. Yes he knows how it sounds. His embarrassment makes it even better. He stretches her for a while and amazingly as it sounds she falls asleep in my bed. I look at her and watch her sleep.

The toddler girl was watching and came over, patted me on the knee, said Owie? I look at her and said "its Okay sweetheart". I get up stiffly and gingerly walk her over to Beth. By the time I cross the room I'm sweating and shaky. I shake her awake and give her the toddler. "Skya fell asleep, can you tuck her in?" Beth flinches to look at me. "Is Skya okay?" she asks. "Sure she was havin' some back pain and Daryl helped her. I think she's been overdoin' it taking care of the kids and me too. But she looks happy as a pig in shit now". She smiles tentatively and says "You look better Merle, I'm glad. Your brother hasn't been away from your side until he knew you were stable." I look at the chair at back at her "please sit Merle" I'm strangely tongue-tied around her I've never noticed her much, being that she is such an innocent little thing and seems to always have a baby in her lap.

"I'm better but its slow going. Hard to balance with my bum arm tied down. Your Dad took good care of me. He's a good Doctor. I wanted to say that I liked your singing that time. I bet you used to sing in church. Huh. I know it doesn't seem it but before my Momma died when Daryl was 8 we never missed a week even if she had to wear sunglasses, she even sang in the choir sometimes. I loved her voice when I was a kid". I don't know what else to say so I stare out into space for a while then. Get up and walk back to where Daryl is watching Skya sleep.

"You want me to move her? I look at her "nah let her stay I'll be Okay. If nothin else I'll get her to believe we had some sweet lovin' when she wakes with me in tha morning. I'm KIDDING! Li'l bro, I couldn't do a damn thing even if there weren't a bunch of kids sleeping on the other side of tha room. Geez, I'm not that big a piece of shit". So did ya find the meds? How was it out there?

"Yeah man we got them. They're all still sick but on the mend. Hershel needs you to stay down here for another week or two. Pretty ugly out there. Went to the vet school like the old man said. Ugly place, lotsa animals just died in their cages. People just died trapped. Went with Tyrese, Joe and Michonne. She helped me save your ass ya know. You missed it".

"All hell broke loose upstairs. some kind of crazy flu people coughin up their damn lungs ' bleedin out. Half of the governors' surviving town folks, dead of the flu when they survived, the crazy fucker. You do know that when you took out all those men before he nearly killed you, that he was unable to rebuild his army".

"I hurt him pretty bad, but not bad enough. I shot him in the chest but missed his heart. He put guns in the hands of kids, of people who did not know shit about defending themselves. They ran scared like rabbits when they came, refused to kill anyone when they found out the truth. Then he murdered all the people that came with them. He gunned them down, each and every one; just because they couldn't fight like he wanted them to. Then he disappeared".

I interrupted him, jumped to my feet, tripped because I moved too fast, caught my balance then proceeded with pacing slowly, not able to believe my ears. "what you mean NOT dead. I give my fingers, my wellbeing, get shot trough the chest and you JUST LET THE CRAZY FUCK LIVE!. Do yu even have a fuckin' brain in there anywhere, If you do is it workin at all? you couldn't kill him knowing what he did to me? to the others, how many people he fucking murdered. How he ruined a good chance. The first time I was respected and clean since the fucking Marines threw me in the damn brig!

Daryl grabs at me causing me to lose my balance and I flail at him for support (damn can't I just punch him and be normal again already why do I need to be gimpy on both fuckin sides)

"You just listen now Man. You were bleeding out fast and I decided I wanted your sorry ass to live, don't know why I thought that now.I just want my brother back.

" I done tole you that already. What did you kill so many brain cells from drugs that you can't remember shit. I just want you around. I want you for once, not hurt, not high, not in trouble with the law. Just here, hunting, fixing shit, making shit. Cracking stupid jokes, laughing at even stupider shit & cooking the weird food you like so much. Snoring so bad I gotta throw somthin' at you and then you accusing me of snoring myself awake cause, for fuck sake Merle Dixon just don't never snore. How come that's so impossible for you to get along; or just agree to leave them alone.

"We went and got the rest of the people, after he massacred the ones that he forced to attack us. then he disappeared. figured that's enough of killing. Then they come here and died from the flu that we caught from a goddamn hog. They coughed, ran a fever hot as hell, vomited till they turn themselves inside out, then bled from the lungs, nose and eyes, and suffocated on their own blood and spit. Then they reanimated and started eating people who weren't sick yet, kids got it first then some old people, then people in their prime. The only reason I didn't get it is I wasn't here. I was out there hunting, and going on runs".

"So don't you even think of going up there until each and every one of those sick motherfuckers stop coughing. I'm still pissed at you by the way. When will you learn, I just got my brother back and you have to go off and nearly get your simpleminded self killed just because you're too damn proud to ask for forgiveness and try to get along with people who you need to make amends. You did bad shit. You know you did. Why don't you for once in your sorry ass life own up the shit you did and prove to someone other than me that you're not a simple-minded piece of redneck shit like you accuse them of treating you".

"Daryl, hold on" he's pacing now he's so upset, Skya is playing possum being right next to me. I'm resting my hand on her so she doesn't draw his attention. Beth is staring at him unnoticed, Skya's kids have woken and the girl is starting to whimper, with Beth holding her. Daryl is more and more agitated and is now hissing like a nest of angry snakes. He doesn't see everyone staring until he stops for a moment. Normally quiet the volatile side of his temper is bubbling up and ready to get volcanic. It's a good show so I give him another nudge to really make him pop off at me,

"No Merle it's my turn. It's been your turn for 40 years. Now I get my say. This time you do as I ask. We are equals now. I won't live in your shadow and I won't ask you to live in mine. You saved my life when we were kids more than once. This time you were dying & I kept you breathing, made sure your lungs didn't collapse, you didn't bleed out. I did right by you".

"You fucking prick. You didn't see what you looked like when you had blood pouring out of you with every fuckin heartbeat. when I had to stuff shit I found into yer damn chest front an back so ya diddn' bleed out till I got ya sorry ass to Hershel. When you started hallucinatin', talking in your fever dreams. When I watched them to put your arm and your insides back together. I should have never needed to see your bones and lung through the holes in your damn idiot self. Why are you so damn smart yet do such fuckin' dumb shit time after time. You 'aint even on drugs no more. When you were tweaking' you at least had a excuse. Why do you do such dumb shit an' leave me to sort it out? What the fuck is yer problem man?"

"When Hershel says it's OK you are going up there without your shirt without your wrist guard. They will see that you are covered in scars, the belt marks on your back and chest that you hide from our childhood. The burn on your stomach from the fire and the cigarette marks(1). (Holy shit he knows about Daddy trying to burn my package when I was little). They will see how you defended me and tried to give your life to keep the prison from falling. They will see my scars too. Because they will for one time only see us as they never have before. Dixon secrets will kill no more Dixons".

"You will survive this. I am not asking you I am telling you. I saved your worthless ass make it count for fucking once you prick. Ain't you tired of it all, Merle the constant unnecessary fucking struggle? Damn, Merle I need some air, but it needed to be said. I'm goin hunting I'll come back tonight. I've missed you man, I've really missed you Merle. There's jus' ain't no one like you, no one can ever replace that. Shit I gotta git outta 'ere."

He lets me go suddenly and stomps off, I sit suddenly down knowing that he knows about my most vulnerable moment as a little boy, when this all started when my trust was broken for good and my Daddy threw me in the fire like an unwanted dirty paper plate, trash (1). The truth is I never ask for help because I never believed it would ever come again. Daryl had me but who did I have. No one stopped my Daddy's when I was so young. My momma was out working, the neighbors called the cops. I was treated and given back to my parents. Shit gets swept under the rug when yer Momma is stripper who roped the local moonshine maker into marryin' him. No one hears, or sees, or feels. I live invisible so does Daryl. But at least he has me. It's a miracle I survived at all. Sometimes rats eat their young, my Daddy chewed me up good, then spat me out and gnawed on Daryl when I wasn't watching. That blind eye was contagious, my greatest sin and why I sacrificed myself.

Don't get me wrong. I'm glad I lived. I've never given in and despite the misery and sorrow in ma life I never tried to take my own life. I liked to self medicate and feel dumb. messed up but understandable. what freaks me out now is I'm doing this clean. I'm no longer taking pain meds I'm feeling this pain for the first time not numbing myself and the feeling is new but in a fucked up way a bit of a high in itself. I sit there like a little broken boy that I once was.

Skya watches me watch her.

"What the HELL was that"? she asked

I smirk at her through my agony. "Ever hear Karma is a bitch. Musta pissed off a whole tribe of gypsies in a past life (2)".

**I have a couple of shout outs**

**(1) Reassurance by TheSparrow93. Merle was burned on his stomach and hip by his Dad at the age of 4. apparently it was a weenie roast. sick but amped up the angst. loved the tender love between brothers.**

**(2) Life after Death by Helen Patskyn I used to read fan fic about Agent Sands from the wonderful Rodriguez movie Once Upon a Time in New Mexico. Her first person fanfiction inspired me to try this. - very good at getting into his head space and showing that he was much more than a sociopath.**

**Merle is talking to himself again (indicated by this) in parenthesis.**

**I'm not beneath begging Please review me and tell me what works and what I need to improve on. Im gratified to see that people are reading and returning to read more. that makes me squee. I have had very few reviews however. I need some reader love. sharing is caring. TYTYTY**


	9. Chapter 9: Dinner in the pigsty

**Chapter notes: Merle's subconscious is kind of crowded with a dream sequence. He is feeling better and healing therefore he is starting to get more restless and some of his quirks are beginning to come back to the surface. He's still Merle but this is changing him he may be acting a little OC but he is man with a lot of layers. He is trying to get along a little better. He is remembering taking care of Daryl when he was little and trying to protect him. Also ( ) indicates that he is talking to himself silently. Thanks for reading people ****J review review review TY. **

Merle POV

I watch Daryl stalk off and consider his outburst. I don't think I've ever heard him say so much with such assertiveness. He is right even if I didn't dream about Momma. I literally can't do it on my own anymore at least for now. I need them to see me as I really am, not just Merle the evil badass, but me as someone hopefully deserving to be here, even if ignored. I just can't deal for everyone seeing me as the very worst of people. I just want to be left be. Give me a car to fix, or let me go hunting. I'm happy not having to deal with others much, let me take lots of guard rotations. Just don't bother me with stupid shit. That's all I really want.

I forget that Skya is awake

"Damn Merle, I've never heard your brother talk in full sentences before. He must really be worried about you to have so much to say"

I nod and stare off into space for a while. Things are going to have to be different now. I've always done better on my own, I've never been cut out for being around people all the time. Now it's time to learn this, at least until I've healed and can breathe normally again and have strengthened up to my normal asskicking self again. I'm really looking forward to when I have the energy and lung strength to work out again; even if I have to figure out how to manage without a full grip on my remaining hand.

I shake my head and give her a wry smile "How's about a short walk jus' me n you? I gotta start getting this lung healthy again. I'm not getting' any stronger sittin' here staring off to space. I'm damnably bored too. Ya got somethin' for me ta do?"

She sits up and considers me. "Lets walk around the room see how your lungs like it. I stand up with her and get my bearings, my arm and ribs are sore but I can take a shallow breath. My back hurts worse than anything, hard to stand up straight, but I force it to comply at least a little more. Move it Marine! She sees me wince and raises an eyebrow. "Don't push yourself too far and make yourself bleed again". I snort "I'm okay lets walk before I get tired". I move like I'm an old man (which Im not damn you).

The infirmary is a big room, enough for Skya, Beth, Carl (who avoids me) and the younger kids and me on the other side. Skya has her arm around my waist which I don't mind as she smells good and her hair is soft. She is only 4-5 inches smaller than me. I'm nearly 6 ft so she's fairly tall. I've lost some weight she must be nearly same as me as she is bulky and very strong with some remaining weight accentuating her curves. She has nice curves. I smell her hair as she walks with me. Very nice. She takes notice of my ogling.

"Gotta get healthy first before you can act that dirty mind of yours out", she smirks. As we circle the room I'm getting short of breath, all I can do is glance at her and smirk. She has a very odd bedside manner. She obviously has taken care of sick people before but I can't imagine her talking them as he does to me. She is exceedingly blunt. We get back to my bed I sink into it with a groan that I can't hold back and ease myself into my favorite position off of my back and fucked up right side. She sits next to me " I sure wish I had a cold pack for your back muscles near your exit wound, might help the tightness and help your breathing muscles a bit."

I throw a look over my right shoulder, "how is my wound looking by the way I can still smell it a little" Skya considers my back as she thinks "Hershel had to dig it out a bit when the infection set in, there was cloth from your shirt trapped in the wound and a fragment of the bullet in there. He and Maggie opened it up and got all the crap out that they could but it involved the muscles more and is deep to the scapula. So it has to be packed with gauze and changed every day or two. It is granulating nicely though, but it's no longer infected and smells like fresh blood to me. I've smelled much worse wounds. It will be healing for a while and you will probably have a doozy of a scar. With all of those previous scars and your hand amputation, you must know about the healing process though. I will do everything I can to make sure there is no adhesion"

It's true too. It's been a while since I looked in the mirror, but I'm covered in scars. I know I'm fucked up to look at when I pull my clothing off. I have to admit I'm considered ruggedly attractive until they see the scars. Then I give them the bullshit line about being a POW. My daddy was a brutal abusive bastard who liked to put a hurting on my mother Daryl and me. Never understood why, but my early life was spent protecting myself and Daryl from his brutality, unsuccessfully as we are both covered in scars from his belt and cigarettes. He even burned me across the stomach when I was about 4 and I had peed myself in fear, he then pushed me into the fire and called it a weenie roast, I screamed until the neighbors came, I have a huge scar from my hip to my navel. I tell people I got captured and tortured when I was a sniper in Granada. No one but Daryl had to know that my father tortured us and the military was far less damaging. Women do love a war hero after all. My scars never stopped me from functioning in bed, even if they did stop me from being comfortable around people.

"yeah I guess you got a point, but don't expect to tell you about my scars, the story is best left alone but suffice it to say that going to war in Granada was less dangerous than growing up in the good ole' Dixon household if you get my drift. Moving forward that's why Daryl and I are used to patching each other up setting dislocation and gluing or sewing minor wounds shut. But I've never had a wound that needed packed; even my gunshot wound I picked up in the military in my right side had no infection and healed with minimal medical care. I am actually a fucking war hero". I did end up getting kicked out after I got better from my wound and had a fist fight with a non com pussy that messed with me. I ended up in the brig for 16 months took away my purple heart and everything.

"Holy shit Merle you have some eye-popping stories, guess you have a long history of scintillating personality quirks" She smiles and goes across the room to dig in a pile, she comes back with an armful of stuff. "You said that you're bored so here are some books to read, not sure how good they are but it's something to help your mind stop feeding on itself.

Come on girl you're a therapist, give me some exercises that I can start toning up this beat to shit carcass of mine and especially this mangled up hand. Can I get rid of these bandages on my hand and start stretching my arm yet. . . "She agrees to show me some stretches for my hand and abdomen." I don't think your injured fingers are ready for you to start fixing stuff, but you can start doing some hand and breathing exercises so you can function better. I can go over them with you if you like"

I spend the rest of the morning getting myself washed and dressed and starting to stretch and holding back painful groans more often than not. Her kids are starting to hang around by me. I prefer kids that don't talk yet. Her son is very bright, but doesn't have much experience with anything concrete. Her daughter is shy and (thankfully) doesn't say much but just unnerving tends to stare at me. Skya catches on fortunately and says something about it before I have to string up anyone by their ankles, shooing the kids back to Beth and Carl.

One of the books she found for me is a book about scientists, a time machine and the bubonic plague (just weird) which started out boring as shit but became intriguing. So I sat there for hours flipping the pages with my abused fingers as day became dusk and my muscles tightened up from sitting. I smell food and finish my page, then without waiting I make my slow gimpy way over to where the rest eat dinner.

"Figured now that I'm awake it's time to move around some. I sit down next to Skya and her son smiles at me. "Did you know that the shawshank redemption was filmed in a real prison?" Did you know that the meteor that killed the dinosaurs was called 'Armageddon'? Where does this kid come up with this shit? I look at him he is skinny, quite tall has his mother's blue eyes and wide-set cheekbones, but not her solid build. He is very vulnerable and spends his time with his head in the clouds but still cries at night for his lost father. If he were mine, he would be hunting learning how to defend himself. This kid needs some toughening up. I reply "I did not know that. Where do you come up with this stuff kid?" He smiles and says"I used to spend time on the computer, before everyone got sick. I wanted to be a paleontologist. I learned to read when I was 4."

I don't want to piss off his mother so I look at her for guidance. She smiles, "honey I don't know that Merle is interested in space. You know we need to teach you how to defend yourself and how to use a weapon. That is what he is good at. But now let's focus on the meal and let's not ask Merle too many questions just yet. Let him get to know you Quietly. He starts tearing up. I say "kid when my hand gets better we will start fixing stuff together. I might need you to hold things for me until I can use my wrist guard again" He smiles (reminds me of another blue eyed little boy).

The girl crosses her eyes at me when her mother isn't looking. I stick out my tongue quickly and then just as quickly school my features while the little imp giggles. Carl glares at me but can't quite keep the smile off his face. I snicker as they all giggle. Skya looks at me and I merely raise an eyebrow. I focus on trying to eat is somewhat normal fashion until it's time to grip my cup. Then it slips out of my bandaged hand all over my lap and the floor, breaking as it hits the concrete. I swear as the kids laugh. Skya watches me then picks up her own cup and looking me in the eye dumps it into her own lap. Sploosh the whole damn thing.

I laugh and say "damn girl is it a prison or a pigsty". Skya's little girl then starts oinking as does Emma the toddler girl. Beth colors up red and laughs. She and Skya hit the floor and start picking up pieces of my glass and sopping up the drinks. I pick up my plate and move to the kids table; where they make room for me. Never thought I would see the day Ole Merle sitting with a bunch of kids eating and NOT being totally uncomfortable. I even smiled a little; aware that Beth is watching me stunned with her mouth hanging open threatening to catch bugs (I will have to say something rude later to keep up my image). Skya looks up at me and laughs (I hope she feels strong because I'm gonna need someone to lever my creaky ass outta the chair and back to bed). Normalcy such as it is feels good (hey y'all Merles at the kids table and no one got eaten - as if I'm really a ogre)

The meal was filling and I start getting snoozy but I feel like it aint time to sack out yet. I force myself to take another painful walk getting 2 laps around the room before needing to stop. I curl up with my book and read of scientists and plagues. Really not as much science fiction as it once was. (too bad that).

I dream, I was 15 and Daryl was 7. Momma had worked late that night, no longer young and pretty enough, she waited tables while we were in school, and then drank the rest of the time. She was late coming home from work, Daryl was home by himself when my Daddy got home early and he had spilled milk on the floor. I came home to Daryl having climbed to the roof to stay away from the angry bastard who was hanging out the window of our trailer trying to dislodge him. I yanked my fathers ass into the house and pounded him one hard right off "get yer hands off him you have no right to hit him for anything". Dad jumped to his feet swept mine out from under me and my head bounced off table he rolled me over and pinned me bending my arm behind me until I saw stars and I felt my weak left shoulder slide out yet again. He then punched me until I passed out. Daddy then jumped in the beat up old truck and pealed out of the yard to go drink himself insensible.

Mumbling about "useless brats". Momma came home an hour later already buzzed up found me on the floor and helped me climb into bed. She didn't even notice that Daryl wasn't in the house. He was still on the roof hiding from his parents. He climbed in when Momma disappeared for the night. Got a towel and helped me wash up my wounds, and put my arm back into place. I woke up in the morning to him bringing me the cereal box and the carton of milk so this time he didn't spill it.

Three months later I was in juvie for the first time after being caught with weed in my pocket. The cycle had started.

**So a little fluffier in some areas but still pretty angsty. Merle is starting to get better and he is trying to get along but he is kind of cluess however he does like kids and he is good at fixing and building stuff. He's getting antsy too Poor Merle. If anyone has a suggestion I'm always looking for good ideas. Let 'em rip. I think in a couple of chapters he will be out of the infirmiary trying to get back to using weapons, hunt etc, maybe exploring how to really be a brother and how to function as limited as he is now. so do you think he will make it or is he going to be self destructive hmm**

**one shout out**

**Reassurance by TheSparrow93. Merle was burned on his stomach and hip by his Dad at the age of 4. apparently it was a weenie roast. sick but amped up the angst. loved the tender love between brothers.**

**ha. no way I just looked at my traffic graph exactly 666 views, kinda fitting for Merle being the main character don't you think?**


	10. Chapter 10: Blood, Plaster & Apologies

**So Merle is feeling better, he is getting antsy and it will be next chapter that he starts doing more stuff physically. He is still dealing with the fact that he very nearly died and he knows to the bottom of his being that things will never be the same even once his injuries are healed. Daryl brings Rick to see and appreciate what a sacrifice he made even if it wasn't for the group but (of course) only Daryl. Frustration ensues because Merle wants to pound his ass but most literally cannot even try to throw a punch at this point. Poor guy. Might have to learn some people skills (gasp).**

**Review review review. Like candy for me! As always only OC is mine AMC owns the rest. (sniff).**

My brother returns with the morning bringing Hershel & Rick with him to check on the progress of my injuries. I groan and sit up as they come into the infirmary Hershel even is walking on a new leg. I whistle "looking good peg leg! Damn you must have hit the gimp lottery who found that for you?! He smiled through his beard. "They found a medical supply store on a run while you were out of it. Picked up some things for you too, gauze to pack your wound, antibiotics, a splint that I'm going to make you now. It's been two weeks and I'm sorry to say the plague took me away from you but luckily you were under Skya & Bethy's excellent care. So depending on the positioning of your arm we may make a splint or a full cast so your arm heals better".

I smirk as Daryl enters the infirmary silently as a hunting cat. But for some reason his whole demeanor is that of guilt. Before I can open my mouth I can see the reason. I just now saw the crazy ex sheriff, "what the fuck is officer friendly doing here? I don't want to deal with him yet." Daryl answers "he needs to see what the gov really did to you that day. I want to have him see how much you put yourself on the line." I sigh he is right but I don't like it and I say as much. "Whatever still don't like it. You better watch him while I'm getting my back fixed".

I smirk and gradually position myself to get prodded. I'm lying on my left side with my useless arm up and folded across my chest, with my head turned to the right, and Daryl sitting next to me. Hershel seems to understand and asks "you ready son? He begins peeling the dressing from my back. I watch Ricks face go white under his tan as the rest of the smell hits, and as they pull the gauze out of my back, he shakes his head. I smell the fresh blood mixed with the old and hear in drawn breaths of Daryl and Rick as they react to the goriness of the wound. It's still painful but it's subsided to the point that with careful positioning I can roll over without seeing stars.

Hershel is running a commentary since I can't see it. "Looking better, the infection is gone and the wound is granulating nicely. I see no tunneling of the wound, let me take some more measurements. Let's see the depth is less, the tissues are pinker, excellent circulation, scapula is no longer visible on the medial border and it's smaller on the width and breadth. Less odor too in a week or so I think I can stitch it closed and let it heal the rest of the way on its own. How is the pain? I laugh and tell him it feels like I have a giant hole in my damn back. He gets ready for the miserable part. I take a couple of deep breaths preparing for the pain that is certain to come as he repacks my back.

"Alright old man do yer worst" I cringe as they pour sterilized water to clean my wound and the most painful part of my day, when they shove sterilized gauze into my open hamburger like back to help it heal from inside out. He then re dresses my back as I groan and moan and shudder. Hershel checks my broken ribs on my back and then has Daryl help position me on my side. So they can redress my front wound. He peels the dressings and exclaims "The entry is healing better than I thought possible. Maybe next week you can go without dressings on the front other than maybe a Band-Aid".

He runs his hands over my ribs on both sides and asks me to expand my lungs. I do so while cringing. "Better, but I still think your ribs and lung have quite some healing to do. Lungs can heal in 3 months or so but you have to watch your nutrition, get rest when you can and limit your lifting for sure. You also have to limit your exposure to cold wet air; pneumonia is a real concern for at least a year. If you haven't given up smoking yet consider this the right time." I'm clean now, I've been a mess for 2-3 weeks but this is the cleanest I've been in my long history of pharmaceutical vacationing.

Rick has listened silently up until now and now is regaining his color. What a pussy! Hershel starts setting up to tend to my arm next. I see scissors, gauze, plaster and splinting materials. I smell the antiseptic smell of fresh medical supplies and hear several packages opening as Hershel prepares to tend to my broken arm. He looks at Skya. "Can you help him sit up with some back support"? She and Daryl help me reposition and prop me up with pillows. Hershel then gently unwraps my right handless arm and moves the elbow and shoulder while I cringe and snort with discomfort. My heart which has been throbbing with my back now takes up the beat of my arm. I feel sweat coming up on my face and chest. I glare at Rick and he shakes his head breathing deeply. I feel Daryl grip me tighter and I look at him as he shakes his head looking into my eyes.

Hershel evaluates all the ranges and states "Im going to splint this on a half clamshell, you will get the support and have less weight to deal with, Skya I need you to bend his elbow to 90' and hold him there while I apply the casting material. I will show you how to wrap it, then he needs to be in a sling and swathe for another two weeks". Hershel shows her how to wrap my useless fucking arm. Ever see a handless arm in a cast? It's actually somewhat difficult to get the damn cast to stay on without a wrist to hold the fuckin' thing in place. It's clumsy too, going from stump to my pit as the break is just above my elbow. I glare at Hershel, "how much longer until I have any use of my damn right side." He sighs deeply "Depends on you Merle, I'm sorry but I think you are using it too much. If you want it to be useful again it needs to heal correctly and that means no pressure and no movement until I say it's ready. That's the miserable part of having a broken arm. I will check it in two weeks for you".

Finally my fingers are last and the most hopeless of all since they are a second constant reminder that I'm a cripple even if I can still hide it from others I can't hide it from myself and likely not from Daryl or even Skya who barely knows me. Hershel unwraps them and they are just awful looking, I must have gone white, I see darkness surrounding me and I nearly pass out, luckily I'm propped in bed and put my head on my knees, however I don't like Rick to see me passing out because I looked at my missing fingers and panicked like a little girl with a skinned knee.

Hershel removes some of the sutures that are ready and redresses the open areas. It has finally hit home. I will never be the man I was in Atlanta, even though little Merle helps me as a fighter, I will still now be limited to one mangled up excuse for a hand with less than a full ability to grip and only 3 and a half fingers to hold a gun, cut my food, tie my shoes and so on. I will have to ask others for help as I've never had to do before even when I lost my hand, and that is what purely freaks me out. Daryl holds me by both shoulders looks me in the eye "you're alright man, stop being such a pussy, you've got this". I look at him smirk and nod rolling my eyes at Rick who was watching the whole thing.

Rick's POV

What a mess. Its been awhile since I've seen such a constellation of injuries on someone and have them survive. Daryl asked me to come along so I could see his injuries and help the others understand the sacrifice he made. He was shot through the chest, and I've seen enough people die from an injury like that. I know how lucky he is to survive

Merle will probably be under the weather for quite a while. He will need to get along with others to stay here and who knows maybe he can learn to not be such an unredeemable asshole to everyone. I get the feeling since he let Michonne go and removed part of Woodbury's threat, allowing us to defend ourselves successfully that most of our people would be willing to give him another shot at being part of our group. It's the least I can do for Daryl.

I also have to admit that he went on that crazy suicidal run because of my plans. I owe him for that and for handcuffing him in Atlanta. I have to admit to myself that I took one look at his racial epithet spewing, drug fueled redneck self and had no appreciation for his humanity or the fact that there may be more to him than the crazy stuff we most often see. I have no doubt that he is completely devoted to his brother, and maybe we can make use of his knowledge and training in the military. I can use him to train those people from Woodbury who can't use a weapon, and trouble shoot malfunctioning mechanics. Daryl tells me that he is quite talented in both these areas. It's time that he and I bury the hatchet and not in each other's back either, if not for his sake than at least for Daryl's.

I watch him watching me, watch him and can nearly see the gears in his head spinning wildly. "Its time that we clear the air Merle. You proved yourself to be an asset to this group. What you did for us, weakening their defenses."

He interrupts me, "Sheeit man you can't be that stupid. Now you know I did that for my baby brother, jus so were clear. I'm okay with clearing the air, but know I'm gonna be watchin' you. I paid a pretty high price . . . twice for your decision. I won't be doing anymore of yer dirty work. You'll need to find yerself another bad guy. I don't have enough fingers anymore."

I look at Merle and Daryl who is sitting beside him. "You're right, I owe you and I did take advantage of you. You even warned me about it. Ultimately you made a decision that I should have made in the first place. I know you didn't do it for me, maybe not for her either, but I'm glad you decided what you did."

I went silent going deep in my thoughts. Merle is a opportunist but given the opportunity to be an asset he just might be one. He also wants to be with his brother and is motivated by that.

"I've got to say one more thing to you then I will let you be for a while. I should have said something a long time ago. I did something terrible to you that day in Atlanta. I've wanted to take it back since then. I never said how much I regret what I did, but I do. I wish I had restrained you in any other way but that one. You were out of control, you were a danger to us, but even so what I did I regret it".

I watch as his features flush bright red with impending explosion, which is the reason I wanted to clear the air before he is strong enough to attack me.

"You were on a power trip officer friendly. You took one look at me and treated me like you were still a cop. You forgot that the goddamn world had ended and we ain't on top of the fuckin' food chain. You tie a person up now an leave 'em, they're gonna be a walker's next meal. You have NO idea what it is like to cut your own goddamn hand off with no anesthetic & a dirty saw. Then have to burn yourself so you don't bleed to death while defending yourself because you smell like a damn walker buffet. You can't begin to understand what that is like. So don't go telling me to clear the air with ya. You ever try to tie your shoes one-handed or cut your food, or sharpen a blade one-handed? Shit man you just don't get it"

Hershel cuts in, "Merle, I do know some of what you went through though I didn't have to do it to myself. You are right in that no one understands the pain you experienced and readjustment that you had to make. But Rick is trying to move forward by letting you know he regrets what happened to you and especially the part he played in it. You may never like Rick but can you live peacefully with him and with the others? Can you be part of this community and share your skills with them? We can use a man with your expertise in weaponry and mechanics. I for one respect your knowledge and your military background. I also understand that under that sometimes unpleasant exterior there is more than meets the eye.


	11. Chapter 11: Brotherly Grunts

**This is a first person multiple POV featuring Daryl, Merle, Hershel OC. No Mary Sue. No neat and tidy perfection. Messy life at least attempting to follow TV canon. Most of the story is set behind and between what we see on TV. What if the bullet had gone wide as if a one-eyed man had been surprised on his blind side. what ramifications would it have on Daryl, Rick, the others. Will Merle be able to stop being so damn self-destructive. If someone is there for him (Daryl) and Hershel helps him heal. Will it bring him back? Will we see his ability to bond with his brother and support life at the prison in the background? He's still too injured to fight; so He wont commit suicide when the gov returns. He knows that Daryl would just save him again so he can thoroughly kick his ass into tomorrow. I need writer love peeps give me some suggestions what you want to see happen. I'm gonna put a helping of angst some brotherly humor. Some seriously bratty behavior, Merle is going to grow but he will continue have some deliciously asshatty moments that we all know and love. OH yeah the characters and story belong to Kirkman/AMC the OC is my responsibility. Read, review and enjoy. that is all. Cheers, Lefty**

Merle POV

Holy shit! Thought I never would hear Rick apologizing for costing me my hand. I will never trust Rick and some of the others, but now I might have a chance to build a life here with Daryl. I would be happy to just be left be and helping out with guarding the towers and dispatching the walkers at the fences. I don' need to sing kum-bay-a with the others. A few I can tolerate, like Hershel, Beth and Skya. The others, I'm sick of them judging me. I've done bad shit but so have others.

So I reply as Rick & Hershel regard me, and Daryl is smirking waiting for me to fuckin' explode. So I give them the shock of their lives.

"yeah I guess I can live with the others. But I got some conditions of my own. The Chinaman & Herschel's' daughter gotta stop looking at me like I'm going to grab them and fly straight to hell. I own up to doing some really bad shit. I know I went overboard, I nearly killed some folks. I'm probably not going to stop being an asshole, but I'll not be a dangerous asshole any longer. But others need to leave me alone and stop fuckin' with me. I'm best off by myself anyway. Let me guard the tower, kill some walkers, fix the mechanical shit, hunt with my brother. I think I wont be good for much for another couple of weeks anyway."

Hershel snorts "more like another month or two. Merle you are just beginning to heal. You still should get a lot of rest. Take a few walks during the day. You shouldn't lift anything, no pushing or pulling, no hunting, no killing walkers at the fence. Let me reiterate. The cast is by no means a new weapon to hit stuff with. You need to stay in isolation for at least another week until the rest of the sick people have cleared the contagious stage. Even then you should be only minimally active.

Rick looks at me "glad to hear it Merle. What are your other conditions?"

I smirk, "I doubt were gonna be best pals but I can try not to hate ya so much. I wanna cell close to ma brother but away from t'others."

Rick nods and says goodbye to Daryl who nods back and leaves. Hershel continues to look between Daryl and me, smiling.

"I have to say I'm pleasantly surprised especially with you Merle. I think the others haven't given you the opportunity to show them what kind of man you really are. Anyone can make bad decisions if they are pushed too far. You went through as bad an experience as I can imagine, and I think I can imagine it better than the rest. I hope you can work off a clean slate starting now. I also hope that you will not allow others to antagonize you into reacting rashly".

I zone out as he drones on about getting' along with those assholes I want nothing to do with. I smell the odor of my wound and the antiseptic that is causing it to heal. I hear the buzz of Daryl, Hershel and Skya all talkin' bout me, realizin' that I got more 'n my brother on my side.

The rise n fall of their voices remind me of when I was sick as a kid. The hundredth time I had to stay home cause my old man stirred my brains with his fist cause of some dumb shit I did as a kid. I heard my mother crying on the phone and a tv quiet in the background, smells of band aids on my head wound, and Baby Daryl cooing in the other room. Still innocent before he realized that we lived in an ugly world and our parents were messed up and beaten down by life. I got up and went down to my Mother crawled into her lap as she cried. She rocked me and cried into my curly head murmuring how sorry she was and how she had no power to stop it.

My brother cuffs my head to bring me back from walking in my memories. One of the few gentle memories from our Mother. She loved us but she was a helpless thing, damaged beyond repair, I still think she purposely caused the fire that she died in. I think she died in a pharmaceutical forever sleep but burned the house down accidentally, we will never know.

I blink in the sunlit room bringing myself back to the present rubbing my mangled hand across my stubbly chin. I cautiously concentrate expanding my sore abdominal muscles while feeling the sun bathing my pale skin in the late morning sunlight, relaxing the muscles that had tightened during my dressing changes. I listen to the many layers of voices from the children, Beth, and more distantly the mundane sounds of many people starting their day.

Damn! I respect Hershel, He is a good Doctor and is helping me heal but I'm done being lectured for now. Talking to Rick really pushed me to my limit. If I wasn't injured like I am and had the energy to kick his ass, I probably would have broken his face for him. I interrupt him.

"I like you old man but I'm reaching my limit for lecturing. I'm tired and hurting; I need people to stop talking at me. Aren't you listening? Yes I'm going to do my best to get along but people have to leave me alone and give me some space. All I want is to be with my brother. I know this is a shock but I really don't like people all that much. Enough said. Go away so I can rest".

Hershel smiles and says. I'll be back in a few days to see if you're treating that arm and back nicely. Thanks Merle. See ya Daryl, Skya. Carl, you and the older kids can come back to the cell block, the worst of the flu is over."

He walks off talking to Beth on his way out. "Bethy I need you staying here with the little ones". Daryl smiles & looks at me and asks "Ya kicking me out too, Ya foul-mouthed ugly piece of shit?" I smile back at him, "as long as yer not gonna lecture me you can stay, Darlina" He goes back to making arrows, I start nodding off.

So for the next week life is pretty uneventful, I still ain't anywhere close to my usual self. The wound on my back makes it hard to find a comfortable position when I try to rest or sleep and also makes it hard for me to straighten fully when I stand and walk. I can't hide my pain and what's worse, I'm getting better at accepting help from Skya and my brother. I spend time reading, taking increasingly longer walks.

I'm spending much of my time as a ghost; hanging out with my brother, while I wait for my abused body to heal enough to function but not effective at much of anything just watching the pattern of life while we wait for the damn bug to run its course,. With my right arm immobilized I'm still pretty damn useless and it makes me more bad-tempered than is usual for even myself. Impressive even for someone who is generally known as an unrepentant asshole (and proud of it too damn ya). I stay away from Skya and the kids, they don' deserve that shit. Daryl understands that it is not aimed at him. He and I spend time in our way of companionable silence. Skya has a habit of sitting with me when I read, while reading her own book.

She is teaching the little kids, how to write and read, but she ain't very good at it. She might teach them more about cussing, not so patient is Skya. She seems to be a wonderful mother, tucks her kids in plays with them wrestles with them but when it comes time to teach them she gets frustrated quickly. Fun to watch and reveals much about her. I can tell that she is not a teacher as her frustration is damn near palpable.

It's now quieter down here with Carl and the older children back in the cell block. I miss being outside and am looking forward to going huntin' again soon. Even if I ain't ready to take down anythin' large for a while, I can set snares and get things like squirrels, rabbits. Maybe it's the time to ask Skya if she wants to learn a little about tracking and hunting the smaller critters.

She asked me when I was first waking up. Said it could be a trade. She will take care of me and help me get better, and when I'm healthy I will teach her how to track and use firearms more effectively. Might help me get acclimated to functioning with my remaining digits too.

I'm spending a bit of time staring off into space and thinking about shit. Choices I could a made better. Maybe why I do the dumb shit I do. I don't fuckin' understand people, never have. I never learned how to let myself care about more than a select few people. I never would hurt a kid, mostly not women neither. Seen too much of that when I were a kid. I couldn't protect myself or Daryl, and we both grew up into fucking disasters as adults. I wont be like my Daddy and beat or neglect a kid. I learned to hunt and taught Daryl to hunt so we wouldn't starve as kids and we were safer in the woods than we were in our own house.

Getting along in a group of people will be a stretch for me and I am going to have to make it work. For once I need them too because I'm still too injured to move around properly and defend myself very well, what with a gaping hole in my back and a bunch of healing broken bones. I move worse than Hershel does.

That is just incredibly pathetic, but it might be that point of healing when you're getting better and you realize how far you have to go before you feel like your old self again. I've been wounded a bunch of times and I know how to rehab broken bones, gunshot wounds and amputation, but I've never had to do all at once, and honestly I have to admit at least to myself that I am a bit frustrated with the healing process. It's so damn slow and I have a craving to be active, to spar, to hunt, to shoot. None of which I have the strength or energy to do right now. I can't even work at fixing shit because I can't use my right arm to hold stuff down or even attempt to wear "little Merle".

I also have to get used to my remaining hand being a few digits less. My smallest finger is mostly gone with a very small stub remaining, and was crushed by the Gov bite, the next finger is in much better shape and is half remaining, I might be even able to grip a little with it and build a callus on the stub. I hope it's not as tender as my wrist stump is. The scar on my wrist is thick and the stump itself is easily irritated so I have to keep it wrapped and padded inside little merle or it gets rubbed. It has build up more tolerance to little Merle in the last few months but now that it is immobilized I find that I'm having more phantom pain, probably because I cant use it much right now. What a fucking nuisance.

My brother has been coming and going, bringing in some small kills for me to dress or arrows to help build (as much as I can one handed-not really my best skill) and guns to clean. I help him the best I can, his way of helping me get used to being more limited; learning to make up for my lack of dexterity and be less bored. He knows me well enough to know that my boredom is hard for me to take and does not bode well for any other poor asshole that has to tolerate me.

I throw a pebble at him to get his attention, "I'm ready to get moving man, I'm done with the sitting around bullshit, waiting to get better. It's time for me to figure out how to be useful while I'm still gimpy. I gotta at least start taking longer walks; Work at maintaining weapons n' shit. Sit with the others at dinner with my shirt off 'n make the pussies puke".

Daryl looks at me gnaws on his fingers the way he does when thinking " . . . the hell?" I snort and answer

"Dontcha remember, wanting me to make them all sympathetic and shit showing them my scarred up tenderized back and stomach. Make 'em all feel sorry for 'ole Merle."

He turns n looks at me holding my gaze "I was pissed off at you for nearly getting your dumb ass killed, just when we get each other back, Fuckin' suicide run" Daryl said

I sigh and grunt when it fucks with my ribs and back (damn, still hurts to breathe with that stupid hole through my body healing!)

"I'm tired of them looking at me like I should be a prisoner here, Like I'm not good enough to prove my worth, earn my keep like anyone else. I know I did bad shit. I wanted to even it up a bit. Save you n save the people that mean somethin' to ya."

Daryl shakes his head then nods "damn time they realize that part of this shit is because of them leaving ya ta die on that fuckin' roof. Ya said some bad shit & ya scared the crap outta them by waving your damn gun in their faces but diddn' deserve that!


	12. Chapter 12: Fumblings & Boredom & Guns

**Life got crazy my peeps. Merle has let me know that he is really bored and wanted me to do some research on some Merle like activities. He is laughing at me because I'm a "lazy city wench". I told him to kiss my ass which just made him laugh. So I'm researching on things like hunting, weaponry. How to get better from injuries such as his; he can't sleep; how he wants to be left alone and just work on tinkering and sparring, hunting and fighting. He realizes what Daryl said was true he does need people but can they stand him?**

Daryl's POV

"Goin' hunting Merle see ya later man you ok?"

"Yah man bored as shit, gonna try to fumble my way through this broken it see what parts I can salvage"

he points with his stump at the broken pile of guns and laughs.

"I think I'll be okay for a bit man. You don't need to babysit me I wont take anyone's head off. I'm just stir crazy, I need to get outside go scare up some rats you like so much, (laughs) set some snares. Get this carcass of mine working again so I can kill those nasty fuckers" He smiles "don't you look at me like that I meant the dead ones".

now he laughs like an unhinged loon.

"You're not gonna hurt them now man are you? Can you move forward?"

He shakes his head.

"Darlyina, man didn't you hear Rick n me? I don't mean to hurt anyone, I just want to heal an' be left alone; figger out what I can get out of this fuckin' world; find me a huntin' cabin when this shit settles maybe. or maybe not."

Merle says he is better enough to start spendin' time with the others now that the worst of tha' illness is passin' and the sick fuckers are bein' nursed back to health. He throws a pebble at m' head to let me know that he needs to start huntin' and doin' things to move his healin' process along and feel useful again.

I've been spendin' a lotta time with Merle while he's waitin' to heal up enough to be back to his old self. Only thing is I think that ain't gonna happen. He's movin' around quite a bit better. Yet I can see the pain and fatigue in his eyes. I can see the dilation of his pupils lookin' like he's tweakin' again but I know he ain't. HE can wipe all pain off his expressions but I can see how he still can't walk around with his shoulders squared up the way he usually carries himself (like a Marine). However, he can move around the hallways which Hershel insists that he doesn't do alone for obvious reasons. He can't wear his prosthetic with a broken arm and his remaining part of his left hand can't yet make up for the injured bones around the bitten off fingers. Three fingers against the world. If anyone can do it; than my big brother is gonna.

His rage seems to have died down a bit, I think partly due to lack of energy because he can't friggin' breathe well enough to yell without coughing. Maybe also to the good treatment he has received from Hershel, Beth, Skya and the little kids. I'm seein' a window into what he coulda been without the decades of abuse and addiction that ruined his life. When we were little I know that he cared for me much of the time before I knew what was going on in our family.

I'm watchin' him from the hall now. I watch as he fumbles around while attempting to clean and oil some guns that ain't workin'. He is cussin' inventively but with good humor as he dumps some of the oil down his boot. He has pillows bracing his back against the wall and the table pulled in so he can spill stuff all over it being that his hand is still bandaged and very clumsy lacking the fingers.

He chuckles deeply shaking his head. Stretching his ribcage and lightly wincing rolling his frame up spinal joint by spinal joint. I can almost feel the crunching and grinding of his healing ribcage from here. He rolls his shoulders and neck as he stretches his fingers against his left leg and flexes and extends his right arm. Interestingly enough he can't fully turn his arm over on the right.

He must be missing some wrist muscles; explains some of his clumsiness. I've never been able to observe him up to now actually doing something instead of filling the air with snore or bad breath. All I've ever seen him do with that arm is stab walkers, hit stuff, brace a firearm or hold stuff down like a paperweight. I've never realized how much of his arm he lost when he sawed off his own hand.

Looks like he removed his wrist and an inch or two of his arm. He is never one to tell people what he can't do, what hurts, what scares him. He looks to the world as a machine; a rage filled, tornado of energy and fight inciting. No one has ever seen Merle like this. Laughing at his own ineptitude, learning to do things again that he only had to relearn a year ago when he cut off his hand.

Skya's little boy walks over and sits down with him. He begins to explain the basics of gun maintenance and gets him to help him hold stuff. The little boy looks scared and backs up a little then the gruff expression on Merle changes as he looks up at me and winks, shaking his burlyshoulders. He then leans over to the boy whispering something to him conspiratingly as the little boy looks over at me laughing. I blush and withdraw not wanting to spoil a good thing for Merle. I hear their laughter echoing down the hall as I go to do my own thing. It's good to know Merle has begun to bond with some others; helps me focus on keeping the group fed and protected while Merle heals.

Liam age 10

I'm so bored. I'm so bored and there's nothing good here. Only little kids so boring . There's nothing that I still like to do. I hate the food. I'm tired of eating squirrels they look just like rats. I want my old life back. I miss school, my computer and video games. It's not fair that there's nothing here for smart kids. No boys my age only Carl that freaky kid who likes guns too much. I'm scared of Mr. Merle and his brother Daryl. I like Daryl better, Merle was hurt really really bad. Everyone says he deserved it he tried to kill Glenn and Maggie, Dr. Hershel's daughter. She's nice so is Beth. I don't understand why Mr. Merle hated them so much. I mean they didn't do anything to him.

I hate this place I want my Dad and I want to go home where it's cooler. I miss Ohio. I miss my room I miss hearing the storms come off the lake. Our town has a funny name it's called Geneva-on-the-Lake. Momma cries at night and Mr. Merle watches her when she sleeps and he can't . I can tell he hurts but he never says anything about it even though he grunts and holds his chest, curling up like Aunt Sarah's dog. I wish she hadn't died she was so nice. We were visiting her when this started with the monsters, we lived at her house after she died and Uncle Mark died with her. The same day Daddy died. Momma didn't let me and Mya watch. But the monsters killed them and Momma stopped them from doing anything wrong.

She didn't get along with Daddy. Something was wrong with him along time ago. He was angry and liked to yell then he left us and went to the hospital Momma said there was something wrong with his head. That's why he was mad all the time. He yelled all the time and had to take medicine or he would see things that aren't there, he thought people want to kill him. Momma never said she loved him anymore. She said she missed who he was and that he was getting better but she wanted a husband and not a patient. She cries in her sleep a lot and complains about her allergies when she wakes herself up or when Mr. Merle pats her foot then backs away. He looks like he is a little scared of her. He winks at me though when she won't admit how sad s she is. He laughs when she snores and says that "I thought I was the only bear here. She snores worse than he does and he is loud. I still don't like how he laughs at her and won't help her when she is afraid. He stares at her and I don't know what he wants. I don't like him but I feel sorry that he doesn't have much left of his hands. It's hard for him to do a lot of things but he won't ask anyone to help him he gets mad and walks away or says mean things.

Mr. Merle turns to look at me looking at him.

"what do you want kid. You look like a goldfish staring at me like that. I'm nicer to kids then grownups. Do you know that I raised Daryl and changed his diapers when I was younger than you. He was a gassy little thing. Hated when I left for school. He was blonder than your little sister. Hummf. Haddent thought of that in years".

(he looks at his brother who still watches us and laughs for some reason).

"Maybe you could hold some things for me though. Ever use tools or a gun kiddo?"

"No Mr. Merle."

"who ya callin' Mr."

"momma says its respectful"

"might be respectful but most people jus' call me asshole. and I wont bite. you don't need to fear me kid"

Mr. Merle spills oil into his boot and drops metal things on the floor. "FUCK!"

"I know I know I'm a pottymouth. You ain't sposed to hear that shit".

"Seriously kiddo I'm not gonna hurt you or your little sis Mya? That's her name yes? I would never hurt a kid or let anyone hurt a kid. But you see I'm a mess I'm still hurt and sick but I'm getting better. I know people tell you bad shit about me n' Daryl but we ain't as bad as they think. We don't hurt kids or women. I did bad stuff but that's over now. I was angry about being tied up and losing my hand because of that, but enough of that kid. I'm not gonna' do that shit no more. I just gotta focus on healing. tryin' to get useful. So I'm trying to fix this pile of mess and maybe I can teach you a little too. I think you're as bored as I am; and I need you to hold stuff for me when I ask but let me try first. I need to get used to this again. I can't hold stuff down with my arm yet till' it heals more. So help me when I tell you but not till then deal?" I nod "Good man".

I nod Merle's kinda okay for a mean guy. He snorts and smirks messing my hair with his bandaged hand.

"Momma is a pottymouth too but she tells me to give her a time out when she swears bad"

"really kiddo? your momma is very inventive. You and your sister are lucky kids. She's tough. she needs more sleep though"

"She never could not even when we were still home. Not even when Daddy was alive. She had too much energy to sleep she would stay up writing for fun or reading or dancing. She slept on the weekends."

"where'd she go kid? Beth playing with your sister but she's not"?

"went to learn from Dr. Hershel"

"really good idea, he can teach her a lot. Its good he's passing his knowledge along just in case, being that he can't run. enough about that kid"

"Let me show you how to check a gun for bullets then ill show you how to shoot and to load. everyone needs to know. A little gun like this is perfect for a skinny kid like you or for a wounded guy like me with one hand"

**So no one has given me any reviews for a while. I would love to know what you think. It would really help me as a writer. This is my first story and I need help to know what I'm doing is right. What can I do to make it more interesting to my wonderful readers. what would you like to see from Merle, Daryl et. al. stylistically what can I do better? What will get more interest from readers and what can I do to get better as a writer. Please be kind but give me some advice and if you can some love too. I always review at least once per story just to let my authors know if they are doing it right and what their take on the characters make me think.**

**My love, ArcheryLefty**


	13. Chapter 13: Tic-Tac-Toe Board & Homesick

**So Skya is feeling a little disconnected. She is a big observer and is kind of Merle's fly on the wall. She sees his depth what he thinks that he hides from others but when he's not boiling over in rage, he's decent if blunt and obnoxious but has a sense of humor. She also loves to mess with him more than a little. but she holds back because she doesn't know where to stop yet. She is still working through her grief and he recognizes this, trying in his own Merleish fashion to snap her out of it and get her to be present because in the world of TWD who knows how long they have. Do any of us? as always Kudos to Kirkman and AMC for such wealth of material to use however only the OC are my reponsibility as is Skya's dirty mouth (sorry). SpongeBob Squarepants does not belong to me either. he's funny but I'm kinda glad he doesn't follow me around. Thanks Nicktoons I have that song in my head now "OOOO who lives in a pineapple under the sea? . . . "**

Skya POV

I'm so out-of-place here. Ripped out of my life by the unforeseen herd of mindless savages all hungering for the last taste of chaotic life to bind their cells together before they completely fall into motionless lumps of flesh. Brought back by an ugly miracle that science would say is impossible on every level. The cellular engine shouldn't run, they shouldn't be able to move their muscles, there should be no circulation and no reaction to their limited perceptions of sight, sound, scent. They should rot quickly in the southern sun overwhelmed by the thick and insistent army of insect life. But they don't. Petri dish mishap, wild virus sex? (snort) who knows does it really matter in the hardscrabble existence my kids and I are still getting used to. We survived by pure shitty luck. Oh yes I am a potty mouth besides it makes talking fun. (snort) I remember an episode with an obnoxious yellow sponge. They called it verbal enhancements. The cartoon characters cussed themselves blue and offended everyone but the cartoonists added sounds of dolphin,s foghorns, everything but the actual words. My kids did not get why I was just crying with laughter nearly the funniest thing I ever watched. so unexpected.

Guess I'm homesick. Merle gooses me from his place on the cot while Hershel does his daily dressing change on his back and assesses his fractured arm. "whats your goddamn problem yer snorting like a pig. Ya look like ya walked home in yer brain girl. It's too late Juicy ya can't never go back ta yer life, probably not there what with that damn cold winter you like so well. Its gonna be worse this year, we'll snuggle up ummhumm", just as I'm getting ready to tell him off. he laughs his snarky chuckle Hershel gives him THAT look. "Merle, I'll thank you to talk to my assistant with respect, maybe even try to help her not remind her what she lost"

"Hey old man I'm just joking with her just bringing her back. Y'all don't know how to take me." Merle shakes his head and winces. I laugh at him "Serves you right dickhead, you go on and laugh a little more see how well that works for you."

Was it the flu the horrible flu from last winter that decimated the ill and weak, we lost so many patients, so many coming in from the hospitals dying so quickly, so many workers in the hospitals too more and more each week. I drank obscene amounts of citrus, ate ginger by the sour handfuls, My kids stayed home from school and we opted for a year of homeschooling. We finally just went on vacation down to Georgia to see my husband's family. It saved my life, but ended my husband's. A first responder always responds. That instinct is deep within our souls and the urge to give care never stops not even when we are sick too. Hershel obviously has that same instinct that wont leave me alone either. I would have had to choose between the instincts of motherhood and health professional. They often are almost equal in power, but fortunately motherhood almost always wins. And yet I have never once ran away from danger. I run toward it to defend my loved ones or my patients. I never fear for myself because of course who can defeat a mother bear. For that is who I am.

Merle and Hershel were quoting the bible at each other and I of course looked completely clueless. Merle knowing me better realized I had no freaking idea what they were doing. Hershel probably thought I was just withdrawn while Merle correctly guessed how shy I'm not.

Hershel has come down to change Merle's dressings again and has the knack of distracting Merle as he cleans his deep wound to his back. They quote passages of the Bible or other sorts of literature, sometimes I join in with discussion of Evolution, though I know nothing of the Bible. It's easy to lose track of time in the infirmary, the slant of the light and the smell of the air show that the days are growing shorter, though It is hard for me to tell being that I am not a southern native.

I know the fall skies of Ohio. I miss the crisp smell to the air and the sharp angles of the light. Everything here about the air is smoother with fewer edges of scent. The accents are even smooth and more musical than our sharply enunciated tones. Most Ohioans won't admit to an accent because we think everyone else has the accent not us. Oh no. I'm told differently on a daily basis now. (sigh) I miss my home, my yard my career, but the most important things in life are still with me. My kids. The sun and moon of my life are here and as well as expected.

At least they did not see what I had to do to their Daddy, my not so sweet but very loyal husband. Merle is like him in too many ways. I'll never admit that though. Same age or close to it, same obnoxious sence of humor with the libido of a 14-year-old boy and the suaveness to match. He is very loyal to those he loves, He is stunted emotionally by his upbringing. My husband was too, his parents were drug addicts who took turns screaming at each other and being routinely hauled off by the police. Hence the mentally ill alcoholic husband who tried so hard for so long to be a good dad and finally got back to work the year before this.

He was just turning his shit around when this happened and killed him in a wave of stanks (that's what he called them). That day my migraine saved my life. He was grilling with his brother-in-law, and talking to his sister outside. The only in-law I really adored. They were gone in seconds. Fortunately I had watched the Tv and heard what to do. I took a solid kitchen knife and had at it, before they moved, the herd had gone like locusts, stragglers stayed gnawing. I took them out. Buried them. Cried. Went back inside not to emerge for months until the stores of food was almost gone. We took the minivan and went on the road never to look back.

Merle is very pale and the light striking his back reveals the pale skin with the merest dusting of freckles on the unscarred (sadly few portions of his back) he rests on his left side with his injured (handless) side up toward Hershel. This an act of trust in itself and he has told me how he hates lying on his left side, being that he can't grasp things as well with his good arm pinned under him; I hold a Mirror so Merle can see what it looks like.

" Say Old Man, Hows the hanmurg lookin'? The grand canyon sealin' up any? (he jokes when he doesn't want to show his emotion).

He is trying to remain composure although his lines on his face have deepened, his pupils have pinpointed and his breathing has quickened. I can see the pulse increasing in his throat as well. I'm holding the supplies for Hershel as he pulls blood soaked gauze from the healing hole in his back, It's true it gets smaller and shallower every day, the color of healthy healing tissue, no signs of infection. It does indeed smell, but the smell is of healing tissue and the fresh blood that continues to seep at times; but the world being what it is, will it be quick enough to get him on his feet and able to fight again.

Hershel begins to replace the packing "maybe another week and I think I might be able to sew your back closed. Hershel moves to the other side of the bed so Merle can see him. He sits on the edge, and, puts his hand on Merle's sound arm. "you know I am starting to consider you as a friend, I enjoy our philosophical discussions. I have to hand it to you Merle you are far more than you seem on your slightly less than savory exterior. (Merle chuckles but then interrupts), "what you trying to say old man?"

Hershel chuckles shaking his head "only that I'm amazed at your quick recovery. Without a hospital, technology, and all I can provide are hit-and-miss antibiotics and nearly civil war era medical care. I'm also very pleased at your ability to get along with the people here in Quarantine. Still you may be having a lengthier recovery than you expect.

Merle shakes his head "Old man you know I've been through bad shit afore (he gestures with his handless right arm before wincing). I'm gonna make sure I heal all the way. I know about rehabbing this scarred up ole carcass. I was a marine I don' quit old man" ya done wit' my back? Merle shifts back over to his left side.

Hershel turns and gets a wet towel for Merle. "help me sit up man I hate my good arm bein' pinned"

Hershel's point of view

Merle keeps calling me old man but I can't be more than 10 years older than him yet worlds away in experience. And then he reads the good book and is far smarter and much deeper than he seems. He has a background in mechanics, and was a Marine, traveled the world. I hand him a towel for his face while we take a break from caring for his wounds. I consider him as he stares off into space.

"Okay old man I'm ready"

"Merle, do you realize that I'm not too much more apart in age from you, than you are from Daryl? What about 10 years?"

Merle cocks an eyebrow and smirks "Almost 8 years, he's in January, I'm in April"

I smile at him, joking with himself under the surface of his pain "so how old are you Merle?"

"so HERSHEL (he over enunciates my name) ya ain't tryin' to pick me up are ya. Shit man I don' even know what month it is. I ain't got no calendar"

He looks outside through the tiny window "maybe September – I need to get outta this damn room. I need to breathe fresh air again. I think I'm about 51 or 52 don't rightly know. It was just before ma 50th birthday when this all started."

"How old you pegleg?" I smirk at the new nickname. "I'm guessing I just had my 63rd birthday in August. Being that there is no calendar I don't rightly know."

"Lets fix this arm of yours" He continues to sit on the edge of the cot leaning on his remaining hand. I remove the plaster splint and move the arm through his range as he winces and shudders. "feels better. I can stand that now, bones ain't grinding no more-just hurts a little, but really weak. A handless arm is just a bitch to restrengthen; I mean the point of a handless arm is what. A paperweight?-cant even jerk off properly any more.

I shake my head and continue-things I didn't need to know. Merle is obviously getting more comfortable with me. May not be the most comfortable thing for me however. Profanity and perversion just pours out of his mouth. I don't think he is even aware. Makes him sound much less intelligent and worthwhile than he really is.

"Good. We can get rid of the splint. Just wear the sling when your up and moving but don't lean on the elbow too much yet. It's still setting up."

"Next Merle I want you to try to expand your lungs all the way and take some deep breaths". I roll up a piece of paper and listen to his lungs. I still hear some congestion but his lung sounds as though with continued moderate exercise that he will heal in time. I can see that it is painful for him to sit up all the way. I can see him gritting his teeth against the effort and pain.

The two weeks of splinting gave him the rest he needed. I note some artistic but pornographic drawings and some rather nice pin-up art. Also some geometrical drawings. Several signatures. Even a few hangman games and tic-tac-toe, interesting. Even some childlike drawings of dogs and kittens, unicorns? "Looks like you made some friends Merle if they'll get close enough to draw on you. He laughs a true laugh and looks at me sideways "The dirty ones are from my brother I woke up with him drawing on me, he was pretty artistic as a kid, still is looks like"

Skya chimes in then "My son did the geometrical ones, he and my daughter used him as a tic tac toe board before I could stop them" I look at her, her little boy is absolutely brilliant but needs to be schooled In the ways of the new world. Quiet little guy, for some reason the kids seem to like Merle, he also seems to respond to the attention; less gruff than usual.

Merle however rambles on. "I'm still a righty even if it don't exist apparently my brain- don't have sense where that's concerned. I read a neuroscience book just after I got to Woodbury; Milton (useless waste of air if I ever saw one-no passion or conviction for shit) found a book to explain why phantom pains seem so real."

"Best way to explain it is the motor cortex of the brain has mailboxes for each and every body part. Just because we lose a hand or fingers or a leg doesn't mean that the designated area of the brain stops getting messages. The brain responds to what should be there but ain't. I still wake up sometimes and try to rub my face with my right hand. I only end up hitting myself in the face with scar tissue"

"Used ta at first try to pull myself out to piss with my right when I'm half asleep. Nothing like pissing yourself because your missing your hand-not a good way to start the day. Do you know that before I made it to Woodbury that I nearly starved because I was too bled out to hunt and couldn't open canned food with one hand-took me a goddamned month to figure that out. I'm still adjusting', now I gotta start over again. How could I have been so stupid. I just wanted Daryl to be safe and for once get what he wanted, what meant something to him. Maybe make up for years of being a shitty brother tryin' to be everythin' that I couldn't be when he was little"

Skya I take it that you know what exercises to do here for his arm (she nods)

I then start unwrapping his poor hand. He looks away immediately and breathes fast "how's it look doc? Merle asks as he shudders, I respond to him "they are healing, If you can hold on a minute I will take out the sutures and you can start exercising it as best you can. He twitches as I pull the sutures out. "looks like the ring finger has a pretty useful stump, but I'm sorry son there's not much left of your little finger." He stretches his shoulders and sighs. Can I get dressed now Doc? I need to take a walk and get m' lung stronger. I want to get outta this damn room. I'm getting' stir crazy. I gotta have somthin' ta do. Its time fer me to get up ta the cell back don't ya think?

**Kudos**

**Surplus Imagination- for creatively hilarious ideas about brotherly bonding-and cast artwork-Dixon Demolition-one of my very favorites for a Dixon back story I highly recommend the read - also very authentic voices for the brothers. You inspire me.**

**My kids love Spongebob Squarepants- I nearly laughed myself sick during the episode "Sailor Mouth" I highly recommend very funny.**

**I got a review! Yay someone likes me! Thank you Guest. **

**Any reviews really help because I'm a new writer and I really want to hear from my readers just to know I'm doing the right things as a writer, sadly most don't review. But I'm doing this for fun. I always hope others will have the same ideas of fun that I do. any reviews help I can't tell you guys how very much I appreciate it. It means the world to me. It means I don't hear crickets. I'm getting the feeling that my taste in writing is different, but shouldn't be a shock, I've known that I'm a bit warped for years. I definitely see the world in a blunt but beautiful place and I like forthrightness tempered with kindness in other words a' chaotic riot of opposing forces all hanging out together. I resemble that remark. Now if I can only get the letters in the right order and punctuated. Sigh apraxia. **

**Enjoy! (sorry bout the angst of my own its been a long stressful week in more than one way).**


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